


Dragon Blade

by avtorSola



Category: Bleach, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Aizawa is just done with Hitsugaya's BS, All Hitsugaya wants to do is go home but noooooo, BAMF Hitsugaya, Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot, But he can't use shinigami power on humans, Character Development, Crossover, Eventual Relationships, Gradual Recovery, Hitsugaya challenges everyone's morals, Hitsugaya is manipulative, I love Dadzawa, Midoriya Izuku is a sunshine muffin, Other, Post-TYBW (Bleach), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Quirks sometimes have awful drawbacks, Slow Build, Teenager Hitsugaya, Wordcount: Over 150.000, slow build platonic relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2019-05-14 14:45:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 52,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14771648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avtorSola/pseuds/avtorSola
Summary: All it takes is one mutated Quirk, one with the rare ability to summon beings of energy, and two worlds collide. Hitsugaya, scarred by his experiences in the Thousand-Year Blood War, is thrown headfirst into the My Hero Academia universe. And it isn't long before the U.A. takes notice of this mysterious fifteen-year-old and his unusual Quirk(s). But all Hitsugaya wants is to head home - and quickly, before the hole between dimensions allowing Hollows and worse, Arrancar, to come to the MHA world becomes permanent, and before the strange spiritual buzzing surrounding All Might and Midoriya Izuku affects him permanently. And the League of Villains knows this. But Izuku, cinnamon bun that he is, isn't going to let any of his friends go without a fight.Cross-Posted on Fanfiction.net





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray in the BnHA universe, and there WILL be heavy manga references to both Bleach and BnHA (yes, spoilers). I also have the plot all thought out - the whole story looks as if it will be upwards of 400,000 words.

It was an average day in Tokyo when it finally happened, and as a young child clapped her hands in excitement, jumping up and down in front of the escalator, a glowing, faceless being suddenly materialized and began running in circles around her. Her parents yelped in shock, the new teddy bear that their daughter had wanted so badly still held out to the little girl. And the girl stared breathlessly, not at the bear she had been so excited about, but at the humanoid shape of pure energy running around her. The shape flickered at her stare, then exploded into thirteen different shapes, multiplying rapidly around her. She teetered faintly, her parents calling out in mixed worry and praise for her Quirk.

With the help of the nearby authorities, the little girl’s Quirk was eventually brought under control. She was given quite a lot of praise from the nearby policemen, and her parents seeing her exhaustion bought her a bottle of apple juice for the ride home. They stopped by the local government building first, however, where her father registered her Quirk as ‘can create humanoid helpers out of light’. But her Quirk, uncontrolled as it was, had repercussions that she would be unaware of for some time. For her father was incorrect. She was not creating the energy people – rather, she was _summoning_ them. And when her power had run wild for that first time, it had summoned a creature from across worlds, a creature powerful and jaded beyond the like of any hero.

It had started as a soft tug at a point just behind his navel, a flicker of nausea washing over him as he’d tried to ignore, but then he’d taken another silent step. Suction like a steep headwind combined with gravity dragged at his limbs, and he stumbled and fell, crying out in surprise. His subordinates, arranged in a wedge behind him, squalled in shock, but it was too late. The world spiraled apart around his lean body and he fell through the gap between dimensions, pulled inexorably through a glassy barrier that shattered at his touch.

The last thing he saw before he landed hard on the concrete was a fluorescent sign and the kitschy reflection of clothes in a glass window, but then his temple hit unyielding stone, and everything went black.

And with the arrival of the Tenth Division Captain, two worlds collided.


	2. Making Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hitsugaya arrives and promptly goofs up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hitsugaya is OP - yes I've done math, ew. But he can't use his powers much because Seireitei and shinigami rules ban him from trying to interfere with humans. I also have plans to power up certain BnHA characters though, so the power-scaling imbalance will eventually even out a little.

Light filtered slowly in through the cracks of his eyelids, and he shifted vaguely, his head aching. He felt a hand cup his face, holding his cheekbone between silicone-covered palms, and suddenly there were fingers on his carotid, gently taking his pulse. He snapped to full awareness, mind whirring at breakneck pace, and with a flash of yawning emerald he was awake and looking up into the face of a concerned man wearing what _had_ to be a Halloween costume…in March. In Tokyo. Shit. What had happened this time?  He sat up, blinking the blood trickling from a gash on his forehead out of his left eye, quietly observing his surroundings. And then it hit him and he looked up at the man in the yellow and green superhero suit, stricken realization flooding his body with unnatural cold. The man was talking softly to him, the hands on his shoulders trying to push him gently onto his back, and a small crowd had gathered around just outside some unspoken perimeter.

_The humans could see him_.

“-easy now, you’ve got a nasty head injury,” the man was saying, his voice soothing. “Could you please lay back down until the ambulance arrives? You fell from quite a height.”

He remembered then. The flash of gravity and light and spinning color as he’d been pulled across dimensions, away from his Sixth Seat and her squadron of shinigami, their cries of ‘Captain!’ as he vanished in front of them. A sharp breath passed his lips, everything crystallizing in his mind. He leveled a cold stare at the man touching him, then snapped his body in a single fluid motion, shaking the stranger’s hands off him. He could feel Hyourinmaru’s sheathed blade resting securely against his broadening back, his haori rustling about his muscled calves, but despite these familiar things he could only focus on one thing.

_Humans. Could see him. Which meant…shit._

He shot to his feet, the protesting cry of the superhero-like man in front of him summarily ignored, and turned towards the crowd, already breaking into a run. And then the man in the yellow and green suit reached out, his arms growing to unimaginable lengths like limp noodles.  Without thinking, he recoiled, a cry of shock bursting from his mouth, and on instinct built from years of war, he pulsed his reiatsu. The Shunpo carried him at least a mile from the shopping center, and he landed neatly in a tree in a small park, crouching on one of the branches. Finally, he took a calming breath and properly observed his surroundings. Much to his surprise, he was still in Tokyo, but the signs plastered to every wall were of men, women and humanoid _creatures_ dressed in elaborate costumes with advanced gadgetry designed for fighting.

Hitsugaya Toushiro, in that instant, felt the air driven from his lungs. If his suspicion was correct, then in this dimension humans could possess superpowers. And he’d just run from one of them.

Oh, this was brilliant. And people called him a child prodigy.

He sighed, folding his head into his hands. The callouses on his palms were rough against the smooth, soft skin of his face and the sharp angle of his jaw, and the contact was grounding. He knew for certain that he’d been yanked from Soul Society into a new dimension – he’d been through the Dangai enough times to know what interdimensional space felt like – but this was definitely not the World of the Living, and he needed to get back to his Division. Matsumoto couldn’t be left in charge indefinitely, after all.

With a rasping whisper, he drew Hyourinmaru from the sheath and pressed the gleaming blade into empty air, calling silently for the Senkaimon. And much to his relief, it appeared. But the doors didn’t open. He frowned, reaching out to touch the sliding shoji doors, and shivered at the hollow emptiness emanating from the passage behind the locked gate. The Senkaimon quivered at his touch, reacting to his powerful reiatsu, and abruptly started to fade away. A low curse escaped him, and he sheathed Hyourinmaru again with a scowl.

He’d obviously been brought here by something. Or rather, he thought, glancing up at the posters and TV screens of heroes and heroines, by some _one_. So all he needed to do was find them again, and get them to send him back – all while dodging the heroes that would inevitably be on the lookout for the ‘injured’ teenager on the run after falling from ‘quite a height.’ Easier said than done. Heroes with their fancy powers appeared to be fairly common, judging by the posters scattered all over the city, but determining which among them had opened the dimensional portal and forced him through it…that would be much harder.

He took a soft breath and was gone again, Shunpoing to another part of the city, closer the mall he’d landed in. A frown twitched the corners of his mouth, the air sour between his lips, charged with some faint remnant of spiritual residue. It was unlike reishi or reiryoku, from what he could tell, but the buzz was undeniably present, and he could feel the reishi particles that made up his spiritual body protesting the slight interference. Hopefully this task wouldn’t take too long. Reishi wasn’t an easy thing to manipulate (as he knew through his Bankai) but if exposed to too much outside reiatsu for too long, it would react. His time in the Soul King’s realm, where the air swam with power and movement had been sluggish for the first minute of so, had already affected him, making him stronger and faster. It had been like the Soul King’s realm had seeped into his body, steeping it in thick, dense power until he emitted that same aura effortlessly.

It was unlikely this foreign energy would have the same effect, but if he was exposed for too long, there was no telling what could happen.

Perched silently on top of a water tower, gazing out over the tangled throng of cars and people below, he gritted his teeth. Even from his high vantage point, he could see that some of the people in civilian clothes had inhuman features like those some of the heroes had. It was a sobering, horrifying realization to come to – that even a civilian, non-hero could have the power which had ripped him from his home. But he did have the one thing that none of the humans did, and that was time. Not as much as a normal shinigami, to be sure – Kurotsuchi’s horrific treatments had shaved years, if not decades, off his lifespan – but at least ten times that of a normal human. He would find someone to send him back even if it took years.

Suddenly, one of the large TV screens on the side of a tall, glassy building shifted, a newswoman with curly horns on her head appearing onscreen with the yellow and green suited-man that had been trying to help him earlier. The man waved at the camera, a serious expression on his face, and continued speaking.

_~“-a little under 170cm, if I had to guess, maybe about fourteen or fifteen years old. With a shock of bright white hair too, whiter than snow, and green eyes. He’s got a nasty head wound, though, so I don’t know how clearly he’s thinking.”~_

Toushiro felt his blood run cold, eyes widening as he realized what was going on. The newswoman looked concerned.

_~“Is this boy dangerous, Elasticity?”~_ the horned woman asked, and Hitsugaya breathed a sigh of relief when the man shook his head.

_~“It’s a possibility – he was armed with a sword. However, he didn’t like physical contact, and he panicked and used his Quirk upon seeing my own Quirk, which either suggests that he was disoriented enough to not understand what he was seeing and was scared enough to run, or was panicking upon seeing a hero.”~_ The superhero’s face was still scrunched up in concern and confusion. ~ _“However, his Quirk is troublesome – he appeared to teleport away from the location where he was found. Running will be very easy for him, and I urge any citizen that comes across this boy to first contact authorities, and then if he is calm, to attempt to delay him from a distance. If anything, I urge citizens to keep their distance, both for this young man’s safety and for theirs. He ran the moment I tried to catch hold of him again.”~_

_~“Teleportation? That_ is _a difficult Quirk,”~_ the newscaster remarked. Elasticity nodded and smiled anxiously.

_~“It is, and the boy appears frightened enough to repeatedly use it in public. If any information concerning his whereabouts is discovered, please relay it to the police.”~_

Toushiro cursed under his breath as the brief announcement faded into further discussion about the recent debut of a rookie heroine called Mt. Lady, then crouched further into the shadows of the water tower. He’d have to move in the shadows, then, if he didn’t want his journey home to be delayed in any way. But that was something he could do.

For the next several days, he stayed out of sight, wandering the back alleys of this polished, newer Tokyo with silent footsteps. And he watched. Gradually, as the TVs kept up the constant stream of information, and as he watched the people moving briskly about their business below him, he gained a vague image of the new dimension he found himself in. Somehow, this dimension’s timeline was more advanced than his own, and humanity had evolved to the point where many of them had gained superhuman abilities, or the Quirks that everyone seemed so fond of jabbering on about. Furthermore, he couldn’t sense any Hollows – which was probably a good thing, considering that there were no alternate-universe shinigami either. However, the buzzing somehow-spiritual nuisance didn’t go away, and it was slowly starting to make his skin itch.

But there was one problem. He hadn’t eaten since the day before he’d arrived in this new dimension, and the distinct, dizzy weakness of hunger was beginning to set in. His Shunpo distances were already shortening, his energy starting to run dangerously low. And he hadn’t slept much either, further complicating the matter. But when he saw the massive stadium onscreen, packed to the brim with cheering people, he had a brainwave. With that many over-evolved humans in one place, he was bound to find at least one with the ability to send him home. Or so he hoped.

So he set off at a run, intermixing short bursts of Shunpo into his pace to cover more ground in less time, and breathed, the dense knot of human reiatsu on the other side of the massive city calling to his senses.

It took him a grand total of forty minutes to traverse the distance, and by the time he arrived outside the massive grounds of what appeared to be a high school, he was gasping for breath, his heart pounding in his chest, and he dry heaved in the relative safety of a nearby alleyway. His limbs trembled slightly, and for the first time he realized that he was probably reaching the point of malnutrition. A week without food would definitely do that. For a brief moment, he compared the faint quivering to the agonizing scrape against his insides that being zombified had felt like, then with a sharp intake of air, he blinked the thought from his mind. He could already tell that his reaction time was worryingly low compared to what it had been.

Shakily, he stood up, glancing across the street at the high walls and secured stadium of where the high-school Quirk tournament was taking place. The incessant screaming was clearly audible even from his sheltered spot between two concrete obelisks. With a sigh, he took a step forward, Shunpoing easily over the wall, and landed in a clump of grass on the other side. Then he slipped off to find a spot from which he could more easily observe the Quirks. All he had to do was find the one that could send him back. That was it.

But it seemed fate would have other plans. For just as he ghosted around to the side of the stadium, preparing to scale the gigantic metal structure, a woman dressed in a bodysuit popped out of nowhere, a lanyard reading ‘SECURITY’ looped around her neck. He blinked once at her, then startled, realizing even before she started moving that she was one of the heroes hunting him. Her blonde hair bounced as she closed the gap, narrowing his ground-level avenues of escape. Then she shifted to her left, allowing a man with a wooden-pattern covering his face to cover his right path. But they both kept their distance.

“Stay still, kiddo,” the woman commanded, but her voice was low and soothing, like she was talking to an injured animal. “We don’t want to hurt you, or scare you, okay?”

_Don’t worry, Captain, this won’t hurt a bit! Now drink up! And then there was the taste of blood – not his own – on his tongue._

He jerked back at the similarity in their voices and words, then willed his erratically racing heart to slow, pressing his back against the metal framework of the massive stadium. The woman stopped when he yanked himself away, carefully raising her hands, palms up, to show that she wasn’t carrying anything. On the side, the man with the wooden costume mirrored her movements. Both were trying to appear very gentle, that much he could tell, and the dried blood smeared on his face probably wasn’t helping matters.

“Kiddo, could you come here, please?” the woman asked again, obviously trying to appear non-threatening.

_You can come out, Captain!_

He had to fight back the surge of bile that rose up his throat, but even as she settled just a little more forward, he could feel indecision flickering at his mind. He hadn’t had much success searching for the necessary Quirk on his own for the past six days, and he was feeling faint from hunger and lack of sufficient sleep. Perhaps he would have a more success looking from the inside of this unusual society, and at the very least he could get a few stitches for the little gash above his eyebrow. Slowly, he nodded and as he took a step away from the stadium wall she smiled encouragingly.

But then he felt it. The prickling, heavy weight of evil pressing in on his soul, and he whirled around in shock, eyes widening, and shot up to the roof of the stadium in a neat Shunpo. The woman’s cry of protest was lost on the wind, and he watched in horror as the commentators slowly noticed the warping of spacetime above the rectangular slab of concrete on which two teenage boys stood. Suddenly, the woman in blue and orange and off-white grew impossibly large behind him, the wooden man riding on her shoulder with lashes of wood ready to capture. But they both paused at the sight of the rip in the sky, even as Hitsugaya had.

The young shinigami swallowed hard as the Garganta struggled to form properly, praying against all hope that the doorway to Hueco Mundo wouldn’t open. But then the sky tore and a howling mask roared through the portal. Toushiro felt his heart drop.

Adjuchas.

The Hollow let loose another earth-shattering cry even as the commentators shouted warnings to the civilians in the stands, its long fangs and claws gashing the concrete like the rock was paper. And then it chuckled, turning hungry eyes on the two stunned teenagers in the arena, and lunged for them, cackling madly the entire time, its thirty-foot girth towering over the two boys.

And Hitsugaya moved, throwing himself forward without even a second’s thought to tackle both the blonde teenager and his dichromatic-haired counterpart entirely out of the massive Hollow’s path. Hot pain flared along his thigh, but he gritted his teeth and ignored the pain of fresh blood, rolling with the teens as they hit the ground forty yards away from the concrete platform. The boy with white and red hair coughed, winded, and but his blonde friend shot upright, growling with faintly sweet-scented nitroglycerin sparking on his palms. The boy’s red eyes flickered down to the deep gash in his savior’s leg.

“The _fuck_ are you-”

Hitsugaya didn’t have time. The Adjuchas was already moving, the distinct white splash of his haori obviously recognized as a powerful threat.

“Bakudo no ichi, Sai!”

The Kido spell did its work, wrenching the blonde’s arms behind his back and sending him falling flat on his face, safely out of harm’s way with the heterochromatic kid sitting up beside him.

Toushiro shot forward again, rushing the Adjuchas head on. And then Hyourinmaru’s hilt made contact with his palm, the blade sending cold fire through his heart and soul. The pain from his rent thigh numbed instantly, cold reiatsu overflowing from his soul, and the Adjuchas focused all of its attention on the young captain. A gleeful smile split its bony mask, and with a high-pitched whistle its claws were lashing out. Hitsugaya front-flipped effortlessly over the attempt at decapitating him, drawing his blade at the same time.

The green glare of his cold gaze burned with vindictive anger.

“Stupid Hollow.” He muttered, and Shunpoed, Hyourinmaru’s silver blade flashing white and red.

He landed neatly on the concrete, waraji scuffing the cracked surface, Hyourinmaru’s icy hilt held in a perfect reverse slash, then relaxed and sheathed the blade with an expert flick of his wrist. The Adjuchas stiffened behind him. And then it split straight down the center, the severed halves of its massive carcass disintegrating into reishi before it even hit the ground. Toushiro let a huge breath of air escape him, then turned back to face the pair he’d rescued. With a wordless gesture, he released the Kido spell, looking the two over carefully. They stared back, one blinking in confusion and the other in something like indignance, but were unharmed, and almost without realizing it the tension slid from his shoulders.

Heat seared his thigh then, reminding him of the bone-deep slice in his flesh, and a woman wearing a very suggestive costume appeared in front of him as his leg buckled. Her eyes were kind, though her face was serious, and as the guy with the wooden face popped up behind her, she reached up and ripped her outfit. Instantly, some kind of pink smoke hit his nose in a concentrated puff, and before Toushiro knew exactly what was happening, the concrete began to look strangely comfortable. He staggered, the sky rolling once, twice, and then gave in to the darkness tugging him under.


	3. Assimilation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hitsugaya strikes a deal with a genius mouse, and discovers that the Thousand-Year-Blood-War affected him a lot more than he'd first thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 'Unreliable Narrator' is a technique I will be using liberally throughout this story. If you don't know what it entails, please do look it up - it may explain certain incongruities between objective reality and a character's perspective.  
> In addition, the pairing I have in mind for this particular story is going to be a secret for now. I will torment you in the meantime by putting fluffy moments everywhere. >:)

It was the steady, dull ache pulsing faintly from his thigh that first made him aware that he’d been asleep and towed him slowly back into semiconsciousness. However, waking up from this dreamlike state was slow and lethargic, his body either unwilling or unable to process anything other than the soft warmth surrounding him. Every so often he got the vague impression that something had changed, some sort of pressure rousing him from the dozing blur for a few clear seconds before the comfortable haze returned. But gradually the fog thickening his thoughts began to evaporate, and the world around him began to make logical sense.

He woke up in a hospital bed, wearing nothing but a cloth medical gown – the kind that fully preserved his modesty, thank god – a stripe of bandaging around the crown of his head, and a thick swath of bandages wrapped tightly around his left thigh. An IV had been taped into the crook of his elbow, and he blinked sleepily up at the clear plastic bag of fluid hanging over his head. After a few moments of just lying there, Hitsugaya dragged his torso forward until he was sitting up in the bed, the white cloth blanket still covering his legs. His head spun a bit, and he gave himself a moment to regain his bearings before looking around the small, plain room. There wasn’t much else in the room besides his bed, a few chairs, and a small table with a thin folder lying on top of it, but he could sense the reiatsu of what had to be the nursing staff wandering around the hospital, some of them moving in his direction.

He followed them with his mind’s eye as the humans’ reiatsu drew closer, folding his hands in his lap as he waited for the doctor to come in. Luckily enough for him, he knew that he could use the head injury as an excuse to have spotty memories, but it’s wouldn’t be enough to use that as his only reason for not divulging information – he’d have to play this carefully.

When the door opened, he pulled his attention away from the small window, looking up at the group who had just walked into his hospital room. Two were in pale green scrubs, and as the others took seats in the various chairs, the taller of the two medical professionals walked over to him.

“It’s good to see you awake, young man,” the purple-haired woman said kindly. “Are you feeling alright? Hungry or thirsty? Any pain I should know about?”

Toushiro blinked up at her in surprise, realizing for the first time that he wasn’t feeling shaky or weak with hunger, though his stomach was protesting noisily. He glanced idly at the tube feeding into his arm, recognizing it as a nutrient drip.

“I’m hungry, but I’m not in much pain,” he replied softly. “I assume I’m on painkillers right now?”

The doctor nodded once, then spoke softly into her pager before returning her full attention to him.

“Food is on its way for you, young man,” she explained gently. “But in the meantime, do you feel up to answering some questions these three have for you?”

He nodded, already expecting the whole song-and-dance routine with the police, and flicked his gaze to them expectantly. There were three of them present – a dark-haired man with tired eyes and a slouched posture, a man in a police uniform with a cat’s head, and a bespectacled older woman with bright yellow eyes and a clipboard. The man with the cat’s head leaned forward first, a friendly purr echoing from his throat.

“Well, first and foremost, I’ll go ahead and explain why we’re here,” he began cheerfully. “To make a long story short, you’re a kid that nobody has reported missing, yet we can’t seem to find out who your parents are, and we need to figure out where you belong. Secondly, as you probably know, public use of Quirks is prohibited for anyone without a license. However, when the pro-hero Elasticity tried to rescue you about a week ago, you ran by using your Quirk, and then jumped in to save two kids about your age from a gigantic monster during the U.A. Sports Festival yesterday afternoon, again using your Quirk. Obviously, we’re not exactly sure why you did all of this, so we were hoping to hear your side of the story before we try to figure out what to do with you.”

Toushiro blinked once at the straightforward address, then shifted uncomfortably and dropped his gaze.

“Uh…where do you want me to start?” he asked. The bespectacled woman smiled at him.

“With your name, if you would,” she teased gently. “This old woman likes starting off simple.”

The questions came quickly, but not overwhelmingly so. Hitsugaya suspected that this was in part to the presence of the two physicians standing in the corner of the room, monitoring the whole process as the trio launched questions at him, trying to build a picture of his life. And for his part, he didn’t contribute much. Parents were dead, name was Hitsugaya Toushiro, birthday was December 20th, doesn’t know if he has any relatives, and the like. But then, after it had become clear that he ‘didn’t remember’ a lot of the information that the police and government were asking for, the tone changed. The dark-haired man leaned forward then, his stare unblinking.

“Why did you run away from Elasticity?” the sleepy-looking man asked, his tone very flat. Toushiro shrugged, deciding to answer honestly. His fingers tightened, fists clenching on the blankets until his knuckles were white.

“…He startled me,” the young shinigami confessed. “I didn’t know where I was. And then after I shook him off he tried to touch me again.”

The dark-haired man was quiet for a minute, scratching at the scraggly stubble on his chin. When he spoke again, his tone was noticeably gentler.

“Were you afraid that he was going to hurt you?”

Hitsugaya stiffened at the delicate question, suddenly realizing where the trio was going with their line of questioning. Anger clamped down on his mind, lips peeling back to expose the white bone of his teeth.

“First off, that’s none of your fucking business,” he spat, “and second, hell no.”

The three people questioning him exchanged disapproving, but not surprised, glances, and Hitsugaya got the distinct feeling that he’d somehow played directly into their hands. It set him on edge, and he flicked his attention between the three civilians and the two medical professionals standing at the foot of his bed. One was carefully making small notes on a clipboard, and when he caught Hitsugaya looking at him, he smiled kindly, lowering clipboard just enough to show the foreign name embroidered on the pocket of his white coat.

_Lonnie E. Elrick, M.D., D.A.A.E.T.S., F.A.A.E.T.S._

“Easy, son, we’re just trying to figure out what happened,” he said, his accented voice kind but still firm, and Hitsugaya felt a little bit of tension in his shoulders relax at the earnest tone. “I can understand if you don’t want to answer something, and that’s okay. However, while my friend Dr. Watanabe here was stitching up your leg, she discovered that you had some very unpleasant scarring, and if someone hurt you in the past, we need to know that. Could you please tell us? You can write it down if you don’t want to speak.”

Toushiro felt his lungs still, staring at the golden-haired man in frozen shock before tendrils of clenching panic wound around his heart, chilling it to a lump of solid ice. Scars? Which scars had they seen? The white slash Aizen gave him? Or the circular patch of pale scar tissue just above his heart, where Bazz-B’s fire had burned him from the inside out? Or perhaps it was the long, shoulder-to-hip streak that had nearly severed his spine in two, sending him to the ground only to lie there helplessly, watching as Matsumoto’s still form hit the ground at his side, her blood pooling around her and staining her strawberry hair pink with-

_Those who live together should die together. That’s my style._

The blanket was soft-smooth-, a spreading stain of crimson blooming on the white of her obi- cold, that was cold, against his forehead, on the back of his neck- ice blooming in deadly splendor on Cang Du’s back- easy, easy, listen to the heartbeat thudding beneath his ear. Breathe, in and out, one and two. That’s it. Keep going.

“Easy, kiddo, I’ve got you. Come on now, can you feel how soft the blanket is?”

He blinked twice before he realized that Dr. Elrick was sitting on the edge of his bed, white-clad arms cradling his trembling torso gently. Sometime in between the moment that his past had blurred his reality and now, he’d curled in on himself. And then the gravity of what had just happened hit him, striking deep at his pride. Furious with himself, he jerked back, shoving the doctor away.

“Leave me alone!” he snapped, reaching blindly for Hyourinmaru. Terror seized him when he realized the blade wasn’t in the room, and he whirled around, kicking back the sheets. He _needed_ the dragon with him now, if only to reassure himself, to prove to himself that the wise creature was still coiled protectively around his heart. And then Dr. Elrick and the tall female doctor were moving, their hands on his arms and legs, holding him in place. He yelled wordlessly, on the brink of pulling his reiatsu forth to throw them off, but then there was a needle in his shoulder and suddenly his heart rate was dropping and he could breathe again and the tight compression round his chest was easing away.

Dr. Elrick carefully helped him lay back against the pillows, pressing a hand to his forehead gently. The golden-haired man’s hazel eyes glinted with understanding and compassion, but Hitsugaya was surprised to not see any pity there. He sighed quietly, feeling lethargic and calm, slightly detached from reality.

“…You sedated me,” he observed after a moment, staring up at the foreign doctor, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel angry or upset. Dr. Elrick sighed, obvious regret in his voice.

“Yes, I did. And I would apologize to you, but I don’t want to lie to you about something so simple,” the man said gently. “You see, I’m a psychiatric specialist from the United States, and I happen to be very experienced in helping patients suffering from trauma, including Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I was brought in on your case at Dr. Watanabe’s request.”

Hitsugaya swallowed, knowing that this information would matter to him later, and nodded once.

“Where’s my Za- my sword?” he asked plaintively. “I need it – I’ve always had it.”

Dr. Elrick raised an eyebrow, then glanced at the cat-policeman with a protective sharpness in those hazel eyes.

“If you would?” he relayed quietly. “It cannot be held as ‘evidence’ forever, and he probably needs it to feel safe.”

The policeman with the cat’s head nodded and rose from his seat. Then he paused by the door.

“Can the official record indicate that-”

“Yes, I’m diagnosing him. Put it on your records and do whatever you have to do to indicate this being his reason for running away from Elasticity via Quirk usage,” the psychiatrist’s voice was brisk but still tempered with the kind firmness that had initially allowed Hitsugaya to relax a bit. “My only question is this – Toushiro, can you answer another question for me?”

Hitsugaya felt a quick twinge of mild confusion at the sole use of his given name without an honorific, then remembered the man was foreign and nodded. Dr. Elrick smiled encouragingly.

“Now, I know that somebody has hurt you before, though I do not know when, why, or how. But if you were hurt so badly before this…why did you jump in to rescue the two boys from U.A. High School?”

Toushiro struggled to focus on the question, the sedative closing in on his mind, but he was coherent enough to answer properly. And when the question’s meaning hit him, he let his face harden in fierce determination.

“I was the only one who could save them,” he said, his voice strong, “so I did. The minute I let my personal problems prevent me from doing my job and protecting two innocent kids is the second I stop being Hitsugaya Toushiro.”

The humans fell silent for a moment, processing this, and then the dark-haired man stood up and bowed to him.

“Then I must thank you,” the tired-looking man said gravely. “You saved the lives of two of my students.”

Shortly after this, the pair of doctors deemed the interview over, and after the cat-policeman brought Hyourinmaru to his wielder everyone was shooed from the room except Dr. Elrick, who sat down in a corner of the room to keep watch while Hitsugaya had access to a blade. Toushiro, for his part, ignored the golden-haired man. He was too tired to care, the sedative doing its work well, and he eventually fell asleep curled around the long blade, hugging the hilt to his chest.

The next two days passed in something of a repetitive blur, with the police and certain ‘pro-heroes’ coming in to speak with him in between meals and doctor check-ups. The strange spiritual buzzing that had made his skin itch remained constant, at times increasing in intensity, but Toushiro tried to ignore it, since he wasn’t seeing side effects yet.

Dr. Watanabe was particularly shocked by how fast he was healing – by the time three days had passed, the gash in his thigh has closed enough for him to stand and walk on it, albeit aided by crutches. But then, on the morning of his last day in the hospital, a tiny mouse wearing a suit walked into his hospital room, followed by a massively muscular blonde man and the dark-haired teacher he’d met before. The odd group was accompanied by a few policemen and Dr. Elrick.

Hitsugaya sat fully up when the group entered his hospital room, Hyourinmaru’s unsheathed blade lying across his knees. Dr. Elrick stiffened, then threw his patient a disapproving glance.

“Toushiro, I’ve told you to keep that sheathed, please.”

Hitsugaya rolled his eyes, gently running his fingers along the keen edge. A sigh escaped him.

“It’s Hitsugaya. I told you already, I’ve been training with this blade for years – I’m not going to accidentally cut myself. And I’m not a suicide risk,” he said, but he dutifully slid the Zanpakutou back into his sheath and apologized to the disgruntled dragon in the back of his head. “Have you finally decided where I’m going to be placed?”

The cat-policeman from his first interview stepped forward, a serious look on his face. Hitsugaya was well aware that since he had no records, he would be a tricky individual to monitor. And he also knew that the pro-hero group was very interested in his ‘Quirk’ ability, or rather, the simple Shunpo he used to take down the Adjuchas. But if that was all they thought he could do, then he could deal with that. They’d already slapped the ‘crazy’ label on his back, which meant he’d be watched more closely than he really wanted. A slight scowl flickered across his face at the reminder of the PTSD misdiagnosis.

He was a veteran soldier of the two biggest disasters to strike Seireitei since the Quincy extermination when Yamamoto was young. Of course he’d be a little twitchy. He’d learned that paranoia to keep himself alive in battle, and without it he’d probably have died several times over. Even reflexes couldn’t compare to experience.

“Yes, we have. Given your rather powerful Quirk, apparent experience, and your lack of records, it will be easiest to place you at a high school with a hero course, as those are typically taught by seasoned professionals who will not only be able to help you develop, but also keep an eye on you,” the cat-policeman said. “U.A. High School, which educates the two boys whose lives you saved, has offered to host you there at their on-campus dormitories. I’d recommend taking the offer, as well – U.A. boasts the best hero program in the country.”

Toushiro raised an eyebrow, but inwardly breathed a sigh of relief at the news. Installing himself in such a place would allow for his increased ability to locate an individual capable of returning him to Seireitei – heaven knows searching from the shadows hadn’t turned up any leads. So he looked up at the dark-haired teacher he remembered from the first conversation – the boys’ teacher – and his two oddly-matched companions. Carefully, he allowed a hint of a smile to twitch at the corners of his mouth.

“If I say yes to this arrangement, what happens?” he asked, curious in spite of himself. True, he hadn’t been to school of any kind since his awful experiences at the Shinou Academy, and the idea of being around children was rather unpleasant, but at least he’d be in a better position to search for a way home. The mouse-like creature clapped its paws together.

“Well now, that’s where I would come in,” the mouse tittered pleasantly. “I am Nedzu, the principal of U.A. High School. I think you have already met Aizawa-sensei – he’d be your homeroom teacher if you decided to come with us – and the larger man with me is All Might, the top hero in the country, both in popularity and the number of successful missions he’s completed. He’s now a teacher at our fine institution.”

The two teachers waved, though All Might was much more enthusiastic about the whole thing than Aizawa was, and Hitsugaya felt a sort of sympathy well up in him for the dark-haired man. Dealing with an overly-optimistic man like All Might must be a chore. Nedzu then continued on.

“If you choose to come with us, you’ll be discharged from the hospital today, and we’ll give you a room in our school dorms. Then as soon as you’re settled in, we’ll take you to meet your classmates. Then, we’ll give you a brief tour of the school,” Nedzu concluded. “Since it’s already so late in the school year, you’ll receive a tutor to help you catch up, and you can start attending classes in the next few days. And because you’re currently parentless, your tuition will come out of the state fund, which means the school will provide you with a weekly allowance so long as you participate in the work-study program.”

Toushiro considered the situation for a brief moment. He didn’t really have many other options, and if he could forge connections enough to get insider information on anyone with dimension-warping Quirks, getting home would be a piece of cake. Besides, with the PTSD tag hanging over his head, he doubted he’d be placed anywhere nearly as free as a high school campus should he choose not to take the offer.

So he looked up and nodded once, unabashedly making eye contact with the furry mouse-person.

“Then I suppose I’m saying yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be updating this story probably once every other day (or thereabouts) until it catches up to the Fanfiction.net version, and then I will start uploading chapters every ten days or so. Please feel free to leave comments/reviews on either version of the story!  
> Finally, here is a A03-exclusive Easter Egg: 'Lonnie' is apparently a nickname for Alphonse. Now guess who that nice doctor is based off of. XD


	4. Plus (Ultra) One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Midoriya and Class 1-A meet their new classmate, and are very confused about his Quirk. Midoriya also does too much math in his free time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually did math to figure out a minimum Shunpo speed. The plot starts to take shape in this chapter.

It had made the news, and Izuku watched with wide eyes as the footage of the white-haired boy killing the massive creature that had attacked the U.A. Games played on the metro’s TV screen again. The entire car was watching in silence, the unforgettable event from four days ago still a shock to most. Bakugo and Todoroki were still reeling from the incident, flabbergasted by both the rescue – which had been entirely necessary, despite all of Bakugo’s fuming – and the instant kill of the gigantic creature.

One blink. That had been it, and then the massive _thing_ had split in half, cut cleanly down the middle by the long blade the white-haired boy carried. He’d been injured though, and from what Bakugo said, it had happened when he’d tackled the two U.A. students out of the way. So not only had he instantly killed a beast thirty feet tall, but he’d also done that _while injured_. What sort of Quirk could enable someone to do that?

The ding of the metro doors opening broke off Izuku’s hurried muttering, and he exited the train with the crowd of people, scurrying from the train station just ahead of the blonde ball of anger and confusion that was Bakugo following the U.A. Games. Several people called out to him as he passed, cheering and congratulating him absently on his success in the tournament, and he waved hesitantly back at them. The attention had been strange after that first day, and the second day…and the third as well…but he was starting to get the hang of it.

He pulled out his student ID as he walked through the gates of U.A. High School to defuse the alarm, then hurried up the steps through the crush of other students, his backpack knocking against his back. The TV screens inside the building also were playing the insane footage of the sword-wielding teen’s intervention, and he glanced up to watch again as he rummaged through his locker, brow furrowing.

“Midoriya-kun! Hi!”

He whirled around with a startled yelp, books clenched against his chest. Uraraka was there, standing behind him with a pretty smile on her round face. Her brown bob bounced cheerfully, her pretty eyes blinking at him as she leaned up into his face. He couldn’t help the sudden thudding of his heart, and his face steamed as he saw that _wow, her eyelashes are so long, and does she have a few freckles on the bridge of her nose too-_

“A-aah! M-morning, Uraraka-san!”

_So close!_

He breathed a sigh of relief when she backed up a pace and gave him one of those floaty smiles, but only because his heart had decided to stop humming in his ribcage and he could actually _breathe_ again. They walked to class side by side, carefully maneuvering around the crowds of general studies and business students, then finally making their way up the less crowded floors of the school where their classroom was located. The door was open when they arrived, Iida already seated at his desk, poring over the chapter they were supposed to read the night before. Uraraka waved upon seeing the notoriously earnest teenager, bouncing over to him with a grin. Izuku followed, greeting Ashido, Todoroki, and Asui -Tsu-tsuyu-chan! – on the way past.

“Midoriya-kun, can you believe the complexity of the sentences we were assigned last night?” Iida wasn’t holding back, already discussing the homework in full vigor, eyes still fixed on the textbook in his hands. “Three gerunds in sentence six alone, not to mention that the entire sentence was in past perfect tense.”

Izuku blinked then took out his homework, finding sentence six further down the page. Then he looked at Iida’s homework, puzzling over the difference.

“I thought it was in past continuous, Iida-kun,” he said after a moment. “Aren’t gerunds usually found with the continuous tense?”

Everything was quiet for a minute, and then half the class exploded with wails of ‘nooooo’ or ‘I forgot about that!’ Izuku went a bit pink in the face and held up his hands, frantically trying to reassure his classmates. Then Bakugo slammed the door open, looking surly as usual, and slouched over to his desk, where he put his feet up and leaned back to talk to Kirishima. And the happy chaos continued, until the door opened again.

In the blink of an eye, everyone was seated and silent, watching patiently as Aizawa-sensei rolled himself through the doorway, still wrapped in his sleeping bag. Today he had a juice box instead of the usual bagged juice, and he looked less than overjoyed about it. Then again, he looked less than overjoyed about pretty much everything, but today it was definitely more noticeable than usual. Izuku frowned, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. What if something had happened? Maybe All Might’s time limit had decreased again? Or maybe there actually _was_ something wrong with his eyes, an injury leftover from the USJ disaster?

But then class began, Aizawa first lecturing them about the internships they’d be getting to choose later in the week. Then he high-tailed it out the door about forty times quicker than usual, and Class 1-Awent straight into the usual routine math, science, and English classes that were standard for their grade level. In English, it turned out that Midoriya had been right about sentence six, but had completely mistranslated sentence two, so everyone had actually received about the same grade. Excluding Mineta, that is, as he had forgotten to do the homework entirely, and Yaoyorozu, who had miraculously gotten everything right (again).

However, towards the very end of their math class, just as they were about to go to lunch, there was a knock on the door. The teacher looked up in surprise, reshuffling her notes in preparation to leave.

“Come in, we’ve just finished.” She said. The door slid open to reveal Aizawa, who was standing at the front of the classroom with a remarkably alert expression in his dark eyes. A little behind him was Principal Nedzu and All Might, who also had incredibly serious expressions. Nedzu climbed up onto the podium at the front of the room with an apologetic wave to the professor, then gestured for All Might to shut the door, and the tall hero did so, stepping back outside the classroom.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I have an important announcement to make to the class of 1-A,” he apologized, whiskers twitching. The entire class sat up at that, leaning forward in anticipation. “As you all are aware, there was an intervention in a potentially life-threatening situation at the U.A. Sports Festival by a boy supposedly on the run from the rescue hero Elasticity. After he was captured and placed in medical custody, he has been interviewed by both pro-heroes and police. We have jointly determined that he is not a threat to anyone’s safety and is likely suffering from head trauma in conjunction with a difficult past, which would account for both his behavior and his lack of information about himself.”

Izuku could hear Bakugo’s knuckles cracking the laminate of his desk at the mention of the white-haired boy. He flinched a little bit at the noise. In the back of the classroom, he knew Todoroki was also stewing, puzzling over the mysterious character that had saved his life. Nedzu didn’t even pause.

“However, his skill with his Quirk and combat techniques are far beyond what any normal fifteen-year-old could possess,” the mouse said, his voice turning stern. “And beyond this, he does not appear to exist on any form of official documentation. However, since the police cannot justify keeping him behind bars, it has been decided that he will remain in a controlled environment where pro-heroes can keep an eye on him. To this end, I volunteered U.A. for this task.”

The sudden ripple of realization echoed through the class, nervous titters whispering between Kaminari and Sero. Nedzu raised a paw, and Aizawa stepped forward, glaring drolly out from underneath his dark fringe. All Might was still noticeably outside, his voice distorted by the closed door but still faintly audible.

“Obviously, as some of you have realized, this means he is going to be placed in your class,” the disheveled man grunted. “As my Quirk is suited for disabling others’ Quirks, I’m the best suited to monitor and observe him. But before any of you kids jump to conclusions, there is something that the teachers and police think that you should know about this boy.”

His tone was dark and grim, almost pained, and that alone was enough to make even Bakugo look mildly surprised. Izuku could feel his heart pounding in his chest, anticipation building. And then the words came out, and suddenly all that suspense was dropping into horror.

“He has seen far, far too much violence for a fifteen-year-old,” Aizawa said quietly. “And he bears scars of those encounters, large scars, both mental and physical. Do not needlessly antagonize him, and if he acts hostile for any reason, try to placate him and report the incident – we are trying to allow him a safe environment for his mind to recuperate enough to give us clues as to his origin. Do I make myself clear?”

There was silence from the stunned class, and both Principal Nedzu and Aizawa-sensei correctly took that lack of response as agreement. After all, it took a lot to silence Bakugo and the other rowdy members of Class 1-A. So then Nedzu turned to the door and clapped his paws cheerfully, as if the warning he’d just given to the members of class 1-A hadn’t been ominous.

“All Might, if you would?” he called, and then the door was flung open to reveal a smiling, muscled man in a golden pinstripe suit, who stood protectively beside a smaller figure. All Might held the door open for the smaller person, allowing them to slowly limp inside, hampered by a pair of crutches. The class tried to hold their breath as the shock of bright white hair and pale golden skin greeted them, wary of upsetting the teenager who had singlehandedly destroyed a creature taller than a house. The boy stopped beside Aizawa at the front of the classroom, his U.A. uniform perfectly creased. Izuku had to admit that the teenager’s clean, well-kept appearance surprised him. He’d actually been expecting the mysterious kid to be more like Bakugo, all rough edges and spiteful comments, but except for the crutches and the bandages wrapped around his temple, he looked almost picture-perfect.

And then the white-haired teenager lifted his head, and Izuku quickly took all of those thoughts back, flinching away from the arctic glare and cold scowl that snarled the teenager’s otherwise attractive face into terrifying heartlessness. All Might patted him on the shoulder, apparently unafraid of the brooding sneer on the white-haired teen’s face.

“Go ahead and introduce yourself, young man,” the Symbol of Peace said. “Greet your new classmates with a smile!”

Instantly, the air felt heavy and thick, like syrup, and the white-haired boy shot a dark glare up at All Might, the impossibly cold emerald of his eyes glittering. The boy’s upper lip curled in a snarl.

“First, give my blade back,” he spat. “You had no right to take it.”

Principal Nedzu intervened here with a frown.

“It is against school policy to allow students weapons outside of training,” the mouse said placatingly. The white-haired boy rolled his eyes with a sneer. Izuku shivered. The teenager would be very handsome if he wasn’t so scary.

“Because your Quirks can’t be more destructive than a blade, obviously,” he drawled sarcastically, his fists clenched so tightly on the crutches in his hands that his knuckles had gone white with strain, and the metal trembled faintly. “…you have no right to keep that sword from me. You have no idea what it means to me.”

Izuku opened his mouth a fraction, starting to see the cause of the boy’s behavior as he analyzed the other teenager’s body language, but just as he was about to start speaking, Bakugo let out a loud snort of derision.

“Oh, what a fuckin’ pansy,” he mocked. “Boo hoo, you can’t have your stupid sword. If it’s that big a deal to you, why don’t you just chain the fuckin’ thing in its sheath or something?”

Izuku shrank back into his chair as Aizawa rounded on Bakugo with a stern glare, but then Nedzu followed Bakugo’s red eyes to where they were glued to the white-haired teenager’s shaking hands and the white medical bracelet clipped around his wrist. The mouse principal appeared to consider this for a moment, then looked at All Might and nodded silently above the new student’s head.

“That would be an acceptable compromise for the time being,” Nedzu said decisively, and almost immediately the white-haired boy’s head shot up, his brow and dark scowl smoothing into surprise. Something like relief shot across the faintly golden face, some sort of deep-rooted fear loosening in his posture, and he let himself slump forward. The trembling eased a bit.

“…thank you.” Without the bite of cornered fury in his voice, Izuku abruptly realized that the boy, though still intimidating, seemed almost nervous, as if he was unsure of what to expect from a classroom of twenty students. Hesitantly, the teenager dipped his head, the closest he could get to a bow while stuck with crutches.

“My name is Hitsugaya Toushiro,” he introduced himself politely. “…It’s nice to meet you all.”

Izuku bit his lip at the flat sound of the second sentence and glanced anxiously around at Uraraka and Iida to see if they’d heard the same insincerity in the boy’s voice.  It had almost seemed like he’d wanted to add on to his introduction, but hadn’t quite managed to drum up the willpower, courage, or desire to do so. Uraraka’s brown gaze met his eyes briefly – she’d heard it too, then.

Hitsugaya was directed to sit at a desk squeezed into the back of the room, and he quietly made his way there on his crutches. Aizawa followed him to the back of the room, as did All Might, and then Principal Nedzu waved his paws.

“Alright kids, go eat lunch.” The order to leave was clear, and slowly, everyone in Class 1-A except the mysterious Hitsugaya left the room. Izuku shot one last glance at the other teenager, noting that the violent shaking of the teenager’s fingertips hadn’t ceased, and then quietly exited the room, following after Uraraka and Iida.

At lunch, almost all of Class 1-A grouped together, pushing a few tables together so they could talk about the new addition to the class. Even Bakugo sat with them, though he was separated from the rest by Kirishima and he was pretending to not be paying attention. For a moment, it was utterly silent, everyone picking at their food in confusion and anxiety. And then Hagakure broke the silence, her empty-seeming uniform bouncing around as she talked.

“What do you think his Quirk is?” she mused. “Do you think he can teleport like that weird smoky villain from the USJ?”

Iida, who was sitting between Uraraka and Midoriya, raised his hand and adjusted his glasses, a glum look passing across his face.

“I doubt it, Hagakure-san. He can’t have been teleporting, otherwise the giant monster wouldn’t have been harmed. It must have been a speed technique of some kind…a speed technique to make mine seem worthless…”

As Iida buried his head in his hands, Izuku hesitantly brought out the journal he’d been writing in earlier, looking over the brief analysis he’d made of the white-hair- er, _Hitsugaya-kun’s_ Quirk. Tsuyu nodded at him.

“Midoriya-chan, what do you think?” she asked, drawing attention to the fact that the green-haired teenager had one of his ‘Hero Analysis’ notebooks out. Like clockwork, all of Class 1-A except the snarling Bakugo leaned in eagerly, causing Izuku to stutter.

“I-I ah, uhm…uh, I was doing some calculations earlier, because I’m pretty sure it is a speed technique of some kind – or at least,  I _was_ …”

At that, Todoroki’s interest was piqued, and his heterochromatic gaze locked onto Izuku’s freckled face, blinking once.

“…You don’t think it’s a speed technique?” he asked curiously. Izuku shook his head, putting the notebook down in front of his lunch. Yaoyorozu and Iida leaned in to look at it, as did Tokoyami and a few others.

“I don’t think so,” Izuku explained. “After all, Hitsugaya-kun disappeared and reappeared so quickly that we barely lost sight of him at all, and when I looked up how quickly people can process images, I found that we only need thirteen milliseconds to recognize an image. And since I couldn’t really estimate how far he went in that movement, I just assumed that he wouldn’t lose speed over shorter distances, and tried to calculate how quickly he’d be able to get behind me and therefore disappear completely from my sight. Since making a movement like that would probably require him to move three-quarters of a meter, I gave him the maximum 13 milliseconds to make that movement and calculated the speed…and it’s just impossible. He’d be going from standing still to moving over 200 km an hour _at a minimum_ in less than a millisecond, and I don’t think the human body can handle that kind of instant acceleration and deceleration.”

Tokoyami looked up from the string of calculations in some confusion. Everyone else at the table looked at Izuku with some trepidation, and no little awe over Hitsugaya’s insane Quirk.

“Then what could his Quirk be?” the bird-headed teenager asked. Izuku bit his lip, taking the notebook back and starting to pick at his rice again.

“I don’t know. Some kind of time-warping Quirk? But that’s not possible, otherwise he wouldn’t have been injured rescuing Kacchan and Todoroki-kun, but…”

The rest of the table tuned Izuku out as he started muttering and theorizing, contemplating the information that the broccoli-haired student had put forth. Then Todoroki sighed, letting a puff of chilly mist escape from his mouth.

“Regardless of what his Quirk actually is, it’s very powerful,” he pointed out evenly, “And he knows how to effectively use it, as well, otherwise he would not have leapt in to save Bakugo and I.”

At that, Bakugo exploded on his end of the table, looking surly as usual.

“You fuckheads, it’s not a speed Quirk or any of that bullshit,” he spat, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “I don’t know what the fuck it is, but it’s not a stupid speed Quirk.”

Even as Class 1-A turned to stare at the blonde, Todoroki intervened, his heterochromatic eyes narrowing to thin slits of brown and blue.

“So he actually did something to you, Bakugo-san?” Todoroki asked, his voice stiff with trepidation. Bakugo snarled.

“Yeah, the little shit wrenched my arms behind my back. Felt like I was trying to break out of a fucking iron straightjacket. You lot tell me which fucking Quirk can do that with apparently-invisible handcuffs or whatever on top of making him a fucking bullet.”

That seemed to break Izuku from his thoughts, and the green-headed teenager took this information in stride.

“Maybe it’s spatial manipulation, then.” Izuku chimed in again. “Maybe Hitsugaya-kun can manipulate spacetime and gravity enough to warp dimensions. I can’t imagine that being a real Quirk though – it’s far too complex to be easily used when he saved you, Kacchan.”

“Shut up, Deku! I didn’t need to be fuckin’ saved by a pansy who whines just because he can’t have his fuckin’ kill-toy,” the explosive teenager growled aggressively, glaring at his classmates, Izuku in particular. “Especially not if that shithead couldn’t even jump in without getting his fuckin’ leg nearly sliced off.”

Kirishima grinned a bit at his friend, elbowing him in the ribs.

“What, Bakugo, you feeling sorry for him after seeing him hobble around on those crutches?” the redhead asked with a grin, causing Bakugo to vehemently deny the accusation and slam his hand down on the table loudly enough to break Izuku from his (second) train of thought. Quickly, the lunch discussion-group devolved into chaos, Bakugo at the center of it all, and all thoughts of Hitsugaya were temporarily set aside in favor of avoiding the food sent flying by the blonde boy’s temper. And if Deku ended up covered in rice, well, Bakugo definitely hadn’t done it on purpose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment your thoughts! I like talking to people about my stories! :D


	5. Dry Skin?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hitsugaya discovers that, like the unnatural reishi in the Soul King's realm, Midoriya and All Might's strange reiatsu has some unusual side-effects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a plot point. Please remember that Quirks take time to learn to use right, though.

After settling into his dorm room, being given a set of uniforms, and being provided with a few spare sets of clothing by concerned faculty members – mostly All Might – Hitsugaya was finally allowed to sit down in the dorms, Hyourinmaru’s sheathed length lying over his knees. The blade had been locked closed by set of steel cuffs, one on the hilt and one on the sheath, but he wasn’t complaining. It wasn’t as if the humans knew that the sheath was dissolvable at his will, and he wasn’t planning on letting them know this about him.

A sudden spike of pain shot through his temples, fading as soon as it had come, and he grunted in annoyance at the discomfort. The foreign spiritual hum had increased in strength since he’d arrived at the U.A. and it seemed the exposure was finally starting to take its toll on him. Slowly, he leaned forward, considering the unfamiliar almost-reiatsu with calculating precision, even as it made his skin itch violently. He’d been able to pinpoint the source today, and hadn’t been surprised to find that the source of strange reiatsu came from All Might. It had also, oddly enough, emanated from one of his new classmates, and he got the vague impression of disembodied souls dancing around their heads.

If it hadn’t been affecting his reishi-made body, he wouldn’t have considered it so threatening. It rather gave off the same feel as a Zanpakutou, like All Might and the plain-looking kid with the green hair were drawing strength from other, half-separate souls. But whatever is was, its aura was seeping into his reishi and slowly saturating it.

Absently, he scratched at his wrist where the itch was worst, the silky-hard texture of Hyourinmaru’s scales rippling under his nails. And then he froze and slowly lowered his gaze to his wrist. A soft breath escaped him, wonder and concern mixed into the same solitary gasp. A patch of pale, silver-blue scales covered his wrist, spreading over the underside of his palm and trailing about midway down his forearm before his gold-tinged skin reappeared. Gingerly, he prodded the scaled surface and was shocked to find that it felt hard, like diamond or steel, and that it also flexed slightly under his touch. But he could also feel the softness of his fingertip and the scritchy talc of his fingernail with the scaled-over patch on his forearm.

What was going on?

Carefully, he relaxed, and felt some sort of shiver travel through his skin. Almost instantly, the scales seemed to fold inward on themselves, revealing his skin seamlessly. In less than a second he couldn’t see even the faintest sign of scales. And then it hit him. Was this the result of the odd reiatsu emitted by All Might and the green-haired boy? And if so, what exactly was happening to him?  Obviously his reishi was reacting somehow.

Curious, he tried to reach for that feeling again, to flex whatever muscle had pulled scales to the surface of his skin. It took a few tries to trigger it, but when it happened the second time the patch of scales had spread nearly over his entire arm, all the way up to the shoulder. He yelped in surprise, pulling back the short sleeve of his t-shirt to expose the pale silver-blue scales covering his skin. Gingerly, he tapped the scales again, surprised by the tough layer of protection that they formed despite being soft and silky to the touch. Then as a final test he relaxed again, watching in awe as the scales vanished. While it looked like the strange spiritual energy emitting from All Might and the plain boy had already started to affect him, he was at least confident that the side effects thus far were controllable.

Then he shook himself and stood up, slinging Hyourinmaru’s sheathed length over his back with the length of soft, dark teal leather that the school had attached the sheath to. The dragon’s blade settled comfortably between his shoulder blades, the ice drake’s voice a pleasant hum in the back of his mind. The dragon had been quiet lately, observing the strangeness of the new dimension and watching his master’s actions keenly.

_ “You’re troubled, little one.” _

Hitsugaya paused for a moment, then huffed irritably and started up the stairs to his dorm room, limping along on the crutches he’d been commanded to use by the kissy old lady. A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth despite himself.

_“You’re still calling me little one even though I’m tall enough to wear you on my hip now?”_

Hyourinmaru laughed at him – the only creature who ever could and get away with it without being frozen solid.

_“Don’t fool yourself, you know full well my sheath would still be hitting your ankles. I’m not a blade made to be worn at your hip – even at your adult height I am too long,”_ the Zanpakutou spirit teased gently. Then the dragon sobered, becoming gentle. _“I speak of the bracelet on your wrist. You are troubled by what it says.”_

Toushiro tensed, a hand on his doorknob. Slowly, his fingers started to tighten, knuckles turning white. Hyourinmaru’s knowledge was the one thing he knew he’d never be able to escape, and though the dragon would not do more than nudge him in the right direction, he would not be steered wrong. The young captain swallowed.

_“…yes. Yes, I am,”_ he replied, easing the door open carefully and flopping down on his stomach on the bed. Hesitantly, he glanced once again at the stiff plastic band on his wrist, the one with the medical warning about the traumatic retrograde amnesia and the misdiagnosed PTSD label. The accusing letters stared back, and he broke off his gaze. _“I don’t believe it.”_

_“Little one…”_ Hyourinmaru’s disapproval was a punch to the gut. Toushiro closed his eyes tightly, trying to shut out the dragon’s displeasure futilely.

_“It’s been twenty years, Hyourinmaru. I think I’m over it by now.”_

_“You have shut yourself down for all of that time, and Hinamori’s avoidance of you did not help,”_ the Zanpakutou rebuked gently. _“You have always been remarkably accomplished at avoiding things you fear, and the horrors the wars inflicted upon you are easy to cope with when you do not think about them.”_

Toushiro slid Hyourinmaru’s sheath over his head and placed the long blade beside him on the mattress. A sort of numbness was stealing the strength from his limbs, mostly due to the other half of his soul pointing out a number of facts he didn’t want to face.

_“I’ll just continue to not think about it then,”_ he decided, _“I can’t afford to be sidelined. Not now, not ever. PTSD – maybe I had it, at one point. Maybe I’m displaying a few symptoms. But now I’m fine; I’ve learned to deal with it.”_

_ “But not to confront it and heal from it.” _

Toushiro’s stomach twisted painfully, and he curled on his side, facing the wall. His Soul Phone, designed to look like an iPhone 7 – which a charger had been found for, somehow – lay on the nightstand, an alarm already set. It was all the thing was good for now anyway – the signal didn’t reach Seireitei, making it a glorified noisemaker. He had his first day of school tomorrow, and he needed rest to deal with errant children and continue searching for whatever Quirk had pulled him into this new dimension.

_ “Toushiro…” _

_“Good night, Hyourinmaru.”_

 

* * *

 

The next morning, he woke up to the soft jingling of his alarm clock playing an old lullaby from Rukongai. He’d managed to record Hinamori singing it in her hospital room after Aizen’s betrayal and had used it to wake himself up ever since. He got up gingerly, the wrapped bandages around his thigh itching his skin. The wound should be nearly healed by now, he knew, but he had the sneaking suspicion that removing the bandaging now without permission from the people watching him would only make them more suspicious of his mental state.

He showered in the bathroom he shared with the empty room next door and dressed quickly, fumbling a bit with the tie before managing to completely smooth the uniform out. With a pass of his hand and flicker of his reiatsu, he froze the water in his hair, then shook his head, sending the powdery snow tinkling to the floor and leaving his white hair completely dry. Then he picked up the messenger-style bag in which he’d put the notebooks and pencils he’d been given for study purposes, threw it over his shoulder, and without a moment’s hesitation seized Hyourinmaru as well. Then he left, buckling the blade over his shoulder as he fluidly descended the stairs and left the dorms.

Other students gaped as he loped past them, his steps effortlessly light as he ran toward the main building. He’d abandoned the crutches in his room, unwilling to needlessly hamper himself when he was perfectly well aware that the only remnant of his wound was faint pink line of split skin. It would likely aggravate the people keeping an eye on him, but he _had_ at least left the bandages on, and he was well acquainted with the exaggerated speed of his healing, being so prone to violent incidents. If anyone protested – well, at the least, he would be correct concerning his own body.

He vaulted effortlessly over a railing, startling a girl with long greenish hair and large round eyes, then slowed his pace to a brisk walk. The endless sprinting run he was so used to would seem abnormally fast to the humans here, which would fit well with his supposed ‘Quirk’, but he’d already gotten in trouble once for breaking the law regarding public Quirk usage. It would probably be better to restrict his physical limits to those of the humans for now.

He headed off to the large cafeteria, where a few of the sporadic other boarding students were filling plates with rice and buttered toast and grilled fish among other things. Hitsugaya took a bowl of rice porridge and some pickles for himself, eating in the hurried but neat manner he’d learned in the Rukongai with his Granny, then put the dishes up and made his way to the classroom he’d been showed yesterday. Pausing outside the door, he gritted his teeth quietly, cursing the lack of information concerning possible wielders of dimensional Quirks that he’d picked up on. The law forbidding the public use of Quirks for anything other than self-defense was proving very problematic for his search, and he could only hope that he would be allowed greater leeway to nose around as a ‘hero-in-training’.

But first he had to open the door.

The soft chatter of voices on the other side of the massive door was clearly audible with his keen shinigami hearing, and the sound of the cheerful voices froze him in place. A sort of weight settled on his shoulders, cold realization chilling his blood. If he hadn’t become a shinigami, he could have had this sort of easy camaraderie with friends his psychological age. If he hadn’t become a captain, he could have had this easy friendship with the members of his division. And now here he was, a seasoned warrior who had killed in cold blood, an experienced, jaded fighter all too aware of the childhood he’d lost, about to enter a world of children where he no longer belonged.

The thought made a bitter smile cross his face, but just as he had lifted his foot to step forward and open the door, the young man with green hair trotted around the corner and offered a nervous smile. Hitsugaya paused, the itching, now slightly pleasant burn of the strange aura surrounding this young man only slightly off-putting, and after a hesitant moment, he tried to force a smile back. It didn’t really work, but at the sight of his lips quirking upwards even that fractional amount, the green-haired kid appeared to relax and walked directly up to the door.

“Ah, you’re…you’re Hitsugaya-kun, right?” the broccoli-headed kid asked, his chunky red sneakers squeaking a little bit on the tile floor. Slowly, Toushiro nodded once, simultaneously wary of engaging the teenager in conversation but also a hair curious about one of the twenty other students he’d have to put up with until he found his way home. The small movement was enough for the curly-haired boy, whose smile then grew into something much more cheerful than nervous.

“I’m Midoriya Izuku,” he introduced himself, the happy bounce in the other boy’s tone of voice blending well with the telltale neutral calmness of someone with an earnest, honest heart. Hitsugaya blinked at the green-haired boy in front of him, noticing a smattering of cute freckles sprinkled on the other teenager’s cheeks. Midoriya was a just a hair shorter than him, but the almost-curl in his dark green hair made up for the faint height difference. Toushiro swallowed hard, dropping his gaze from the teenager’s face to the floor.

“…pleased to make your acquaintance, Midoriya-san,” Hitsugaya replied after a moment, still unsure of how he wanted to deal with the odd predicament he found himself in. But Midoriya, as if magically sensing his hesitancy and confusion, chose then to open the door and step into the classroom. The boy looked back over his shoulder with a hint of cheerful expectation, ignoring the way his classmates all turned to stare at the stranger in the doorway.

“Come on, Hitsugaya-kun. I can introduce you to the class representative,” he offered, another smile on the boy’s face, this one ridiculously bright. It was like a sucker punch to the gut, the guileless kind-heartedness of that smile so terribly familiar and yet so foreign. He hadn’t seen a smile like that since Aizen had defected.

_Shiro-chan, I got you some watermelon – Mou, Shiro-chan, that’s mean! Quit spitting seeds at me!_

Without realizing it, Hitsugaya noticeably softened, the hard slant of his icy emerald glare melting around the edges, and as he quietly followed Midoriya over to Iida’s desk, the rest of the class stifled their laughter. Sero leaned back in his chair, grinning back at Tokoyami, Todoroki, and Yaoyorozu.

“Midoriya-kun sniped another one with that sunshine effect of his,” the human tape dispenser whispered through the low rumble of conversation, and Yaoyorozu giggled behind hand at the observation. Tokoyami also stifled a smile on his beak. Even Todoroki, who had brooded over Hitsugaya’s appearance since the rescue, looked amused by how easily the white-haired boy had been taken in by Midoriya’s unintentional magnetism. Only Bakugo was still scowling. Tokoyami shook his head, feathers rustling, a sort of resignation on his face.

“I suppose it’s good to know that, whoever he is, he’s not immune to Midoriya’s sunshine,” the birdlike teenager said with a sigh.

Then the door opened again, revealing a sleeping-bag clad Aizawa, and within a single heartbeat everyone in the class had taken their seats. The dark-haired man rolled into the room, only standing up and unzipping the sleeping bag when he was behind the teacher’s podium. The man rubbed at his eyes sleepily. And then he stared, eyes locking onto the newest student in the class.

“Hitsugaya-kun, where are your crutches?” he asked, his voice quite toneless. Instantly, the entire class let out small noises of surprise and disapproval, but Hitsugaya just shrugged his shoulders carelessly.

“I no longer require assistance to walk,” he replied simply, and when Aizawa opened his mouth to speak the white-haired boy held up a hand, a sort of nameless warning flickering across the green of his eyes. “I know myself. A simple slice such as that injury will take me at most six days to heal fully.”

The class gaped at his claim, and then stiffened in surprise when Aizawa’s eyes narrowed in thought and there was no immediate rebuttal.

“…Am I to assume you know this-”

“From prior experience. Yes.”

Hitsugaya’s tone was curt, and he laced his fingers together with all the poise of a well-polished businessman prepared to end a set of fruitless negotiations. But Aizawa’s expression, far from becoming sour considering the harshness of the teenager’s tone, inexplicably relaxed into concern and quiet understanding. A sort of sadness invaded his tired features.

“Make sure to see Recovery Girl during lunch then, just to have her confirm that you’re clear.”

Whatever Hitsugaya had been expecting, it wasn’t that. The ease with which Aizawa had dropped the issue caught him off guard, leaving a strange sort of confused vulnerability on the white-haired boy’s face, as if he wasn’t used to being treated with such trust. But almost as quickly as it had come, the flash of human vulnerability faded back into the blank mask of emotionless apathy.

“I will.”

After that, class continued on as usual. Aizawa took about fifteen minutes to explain that the upcoming internships were serious business, and that the students would soon be receiving lists of the various hero agencies where they could undergo their field training. This, of course, left the class in a tizzy, with everyone excitedly chattering on about what they expected to get out of their field training. Hitsugaya, from his seat at the very back of the room, listened with mild interest, wondering if he would be able to use that time to better search for people with dimension-warping Quirks. If not, then he wasn’t really interested in the extra effort required.

And then some guy with an obnoxiously loud voice and a swoop of spiked yellow hair walked in, trading spots with Aizawa, who rolled back into his yellow sleeping bag and flopped out the door. The students all pulled out notebooks and pencils, looking expectantly up at the teacher in their midst as he began writing on the board. Toushiro had to stifle a groan of resignation. English. They were learning English. This was almost unfair to the poor kids. Shinigami, as literal human souls, had the unique ability to speak, read, and write in almost every language due the innate human ability to communicate. And Hitsugaya was especially practiced in European languages, having patrolled there many times as a seated officer in the Tenth Division.

And in addition to that…if the students were actually studying high-school level material, then he’d be lightyears ahead of them in anything with a practical application, like math, science, or languages. His Advanced Kido Theory course at the Shinou Academy had taught him how to apply physics and calculate multivariable calculus functions in seconds, and the basic Healing Kido class had been fraught with chemical mixtures for antidotes and complex biological concepts to evaluate cellular reconstruction.

That being said, his highly analytical brain had utterly fallen short in any sort of subjective course, such as Japanese Literature, or any of the art classes Shinou Academy had required as electives. He could deal well enough with political nuance and language, but when it came to stupid commentary on the human condition? Not a chance. He didn’t have the patience.

So as he watched the loud blonde man carefully go over the uses of the gerund, he opened one of his notebooks and started writing down everything he knew about the dimension he was trapped in, carefully cataloguing the information in his neat handwriting. He needed some way to access a database of all the criminals caught using their Quirks in public in the past few weeks to truly start making headway, but accessing that kind of data would likely be difficult, and he knew he didn’t have enough experience with computer to hack for that kind of data. Frowning, he kept writing, Hyourinmaru humming in the back of head. Slowly, a nascent plan began to form in the back of head – but it required a hell of a lot of acting to pull off, and he wasn’t exactly the best at hiding his true emotions.

His skin itched – the same wrist that had been so problematic and scaly last night – and he glanced down in consternation to see that his tension had caused whatever that little trigger was to be pulled, allowing the patch of scales to spread across his skin again. This time the scales had covered his knuckles and fingers, his nails turning cold and white and pointed, protruding from his fingertips like claws. This time the itch had also spread across his back, and as he felt the skin there ripple into scales, a sort of twisting, pulling sensation stretched the taut muscle of his back. He froze, then took a deep breath and relaxed the strange not-quite muscle that had triggered the change, watching with trepidation as his skin once again cleared of any reptilian armor. Then, once he was absolutely sure he’d seen it, he turned back to his notes.

And with a sudden, slightly terrifying apprehension, he wrote down the only thing that would explain his sudden change.

_Am I developing a “Quirk?”_


	6. An Irrational Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hitsugaya meets Class 1-A

The first day had passed quickly and quietly. The teachers, knowing just how new to the school that he was, refrained from calling on him, and it appeared that all the teachers and school staff had been informed that he had been given special permission to carry Hyourinmaru around. And the students in the class seemed quiet around him as well, though whether that was a byproduct of his inclusion or because they were decent kids who remained quiet for their teachers, he didn’t know. But slowly the classes slid by, English followed by math, which was then followed by Japanese literature.

And then, around noon, they were released for one hour to eat lunch. Toushiro split off from the group of chattering students, slipping away to go see Recovery Girl, as Aizawa had told him to do. She was noticeably unhappy that he wasn’t walking around on crutches, but when she agreed to change the bandaging her expression changed. Just as Hitsugaya expected, the wound had long since faded to a thin pink scar on his thigh, completely healed. It seemed Recovery Girl was surprised by this. But after some careful examination, she had to agree that the wound was fully healed and gave him the clear to abandon both the crutches and the bandaging. Then she kept him a few moments more, gently asking after how he’d slept the previous night or if anything in U.A. was confusing him. He’d had to fight to stop himself from scowling, but he knew that the stifled grimace hadn’t been missed.

What made everything worse was that his annoyance at being treated like glass seemed to feed into the PTSD diagnosis in an endless loop. So he’d tried his best to be polite, sitting still as she’d checked the wound on his head as well, and had been released only twenty minutes into the lunch period, only in a slightly bad mood.

He carefully made his way to the large cafeteria he’d eaten breakfast in, trying to blend in a well as he could, but it seemed that everyone he made eye contact with already knew him. Several girls squealed faintly as he passed, boys staring openly, mixed admiration and apprehension in their eyes. He had to grind his teeth together to keep himself from snapping, the open gawking so terribly reminiscent to the Shinou Academy that he wanted to punch something.

But then there was a voice behind him, both calm and cold at once.

“Hitsugaya-san.”

Toushiro glanced over his shoulder, tray in his hands, to see the heterochromatic kid he’d knocked out of the Hollow’s path at the weird tournament thing nearly a week ago standing there, hands in his pockets. Instinctively, Hitsugaya tensed, analyzing the other boy’s posture – relaxed, but anxious, with shuffling feet that belied some kind of nervousness. Slowly, gaze flickering to his new classmate’s face, Toushiro understood that the kid was nervous. And then, almost immediately afterwards, he realized that he hadn’t yet responded when he was obviously meant to.

“…yes?” he asked belatedly, still on the natural alert that came with years of near-death experiences. The heterochromatic kid took a deep breath.

“My name is Todoroki Shouto,” the boy started off a little shaky, but his calm composure quickly won out, smoothing his fluctuating tone, and then the kid _bowed_. “You saved my life last week, from the huge monster. I wanted to thank you. You were hurt because of me.”

Toushiro stared at him incredulously for a moment, mouth hanging open. He’d never had a human thank him for saving their life before, and only rarely had shinigami ever done the same. But then his captain’s persona took over, years of experience smoothing his face into unruffled serenity.

“I was hurt because of my own carelessness, Todoroki-san,” Toushiro said after a moment, his expression still very blank. “You have absolutely nothing to thank me for.”

Todoroki straightened back up, looking a bit confused by the reply, and Toushiro fought down the sudden pang of guilt at the realization that it was his presence allowing the Hollows to claw their way through the barrier.

“You didn’t have to jump in and put yourself at risk, though,” the boy pointed out, nonplussed, and Hitsugaya smiled a wan, tired smile.

“Yes, I did,” he countered. “I was the only one who could. If I had not intervened, and you had died, then it would have been my fault, because I had the capacity to save you and chose to ignore it.”

That seemed to catch Todoroki’s attention, and the boy shifted, blinking his blue-and-brown eyes with a hint of consternation.  But Toushiro had to give the kid credit – his gaze didn’t waver in the slightest.

“What are you trying to say, Hitsugaya-san?” the teenager asked, his tone a little bit strained. Toushiro shrugged carelessly, resigned.

“If you are born with power and do not use it to assist others, you are the worst kind of person,” he said calmly, drawing startled looks from several students around him, Todoroki included. “Because if you have the power to help, and you do not, then you have voluntarily _chosen_ to ignore the suffering and need of another person. You have been selfish enough to ignore the need of another for your own reasons. One who is powerless does not have this choice – they cannot help no matter how much they wish to. But if I, who had every capability of saving your life, had chosen not to do so, then I would be every bit as despicable as the creature which attacked you.”

Todoroki stared, clearly taken aback, then swallowed hard.

“There have to be exceptions, though,” he argued, the slightest hint of defensive panic crossing his scarred face. “You can’t place that kind of burden on the shoulders of, say, a little kid, even if they have some miracle Quirk.”

Hitsugaya turned away, a mirthless, cold smile on his face. The naivety of humans, especially human children, always surprised him. He’d been forced to wield a blade at the tender age of 75 years old – about 7 years old, physically speaking. His first time seeing a man die had been his best friend when he was 81. His first time seeing another man ripped in half had been not even six months later, on a patrol as a Sixteenth Seat. And his first kill of another shinigami had been twenty years ago, when a demented Quincy had taken everything he was and twisted him into a doll, a puppet meant for murder alone.

He both hated and envied it, that sweet innocence he’d once had.

“Power is power,” he said, anger starting to bubble in his voice. “It doesn’t matter how old you are. It doesn’t matter who you are. It doesn’t even matter what kind of power you have. If you can help and you choose not to, you bring evil on others through your inaction.”

He could feel Todoroki’s faint, human reiatsu start to churn in disbelief and confusion, the roiling sensation grating furiously against his patience. The heterochromatic teenager took a step forward.

“So you think that some little seven-year-old has the _obligation_ to save others if-”

Hitsugaya whirled around, something in the other boy’s calm but quizzical voice setting him off like nothing else could.

“Look, I don’t know what kind of golden dream world you live in, but I didn’t grow up in such a precious, sheltered environment,” Toushiro snarled, cold fire flashing in his eyes. “But if that seven-year-old has the mental capability to handle the situation and the ability to do so, then _yes_. If that little seven-year-old has the ability and maturity to pick up a sword and fight, then _yes_ , he has the _duty_ to fight to protect others who can’t protect themselves.”

Todoroki’s expression was priceless, and Toushiro stiffened when he realized the cafeteria was utterly silent, watching them. Belatedly, he realized that his hands were trembling violently, and that the plastic medical cuff around his wrist was blinking with some sort of yellow light. He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to slow his heart and quell the adrenaline racing through his blood. And then, without warning, he heard Todoroki speak again.

“…I didn’t mean to upset you, Hitsugaya-san,” the teenager said, his voice still calm, but now carrying a hint of concern that was remarkably empathetic. “I was just trying to figure out where you were coming from.”

Instantly, the built-up anger festering in his heart seemed to lose direction, and he bit his lip. This sort of aimless rage had become commonplace for him after the Quincy War, but he didn’t know how to deal with it in a world where going Bankai for no reason would be both illegal and utterly terrifying for anyone watching. His skin itched, his back and neck now the main areas where the itch was worst, and he cursed ferociously as his anger smoldered, further heated up by the incessant itching reaction to the weird spiritual energy hanging around the Midoriya kid and All Might. Carefully, he tried to relax that weird, not-quite muscle, trying to calm the itching, and after a few tries was gratified to feel the strange sensation disappear. The small success calmed him somewhat, making the directionless rage containable for the time being.

“…yeah, I kind of…” and suddenly Toushiro had no idea why he was so angry. This boy was _fifteen_. Sure, their psychological and physical ages were the same, but Hitsugaya had been through a series of events far beyond a child’s capacity. How on earth could he expect a _fifteen-year-old_ to possibly understand precisely how jaded and tired that war could make someone?

“…I was being unfair to you,” Toushiro admitted then, fighting his pride to get the words out. “I’m sorry. My point was that you don’t have to thank me – I just did what I had to do.”

Throughout the entire apology, Todoroki remained quiet, his mismatched gaze fixed firmly on Hitsugaya’s face. Only when the young shinigami was finished did he smile faintly, a kind of understanding evident in the smoothness of his features. He half-turned away, then looked back, as if waiting.

“I think I understand,” The teenager said. “Are you coming? Class 1-A is all sitting together so you can meet us all at once.”

Toushiro blinked in surprise, then followed Todoroki’s body language until he saw the giant nest of tables in one corner of the cafeteria. Without warning he felt a little choked up, and as the green-haired kid, Midoriya, looked over his shoulder and smiled that bright, Hinamori-esque smile of his, Toushiro almost had to suck in a sharp breath to prevent himself from reacting. After a long pause, during which Todoroki waited patiently, he nodded and followed the heterchromatic kid over to the table, where expectant smiles and slight nervous apprehension surrounded him on all sides.

“Eh…Y-you can sit here, Hitsugaya-kun!” Midoriya chimed, that pure smile of his trembling with slight nerves, and as Todoroki slid into his place beside a tall girl with a dark ponytail, Hitsugaya carefully put his tray down, trying his best to ignore the strange twisting of his stomach and the innocent eyes all staring curiously at him.

“…Thank you, Midoriya-san.”

* * *

Izuku had to stop himself from flinching as Hitsugaya sat down, the long sword strapped to his back only making him more intimidating than he had been yesterday. They’d all watched as Hitsugaya had recoiled when Todoroki had gone over to thank him, the anger and defensive fury so evident on his angular features. But then he’d seemed to pause, the anger dissipating into quiet resignation and apology, and confusion had etched itself into the lines defining his knitted brow and slightly-hollow cheeks. For a moment there was silence as Hitsugaya began to eat, the class respectfully allowing him some time to finish his lunch before they started peppering him with names and questions.

The lunch meeting had been Iida’s idea, and since Uraraka and Kaminari and most of the rest of the class had quickly jumped on board, even Bakugo had gone along with it again. Midoriya had the sneaking suspicion that Bakugo’s presence was mostly Kirishima’s responsibility, but he had shown up, and that was all Iida really cared about.

Once Hitsugaya was done with his meal – how in the _hell_ did he put all that food away so quickly? – Iida leaned forward from where he was sitting across the table, glasses glinting.

“Hitsugaya-san, I know you’ve already met Todoroki-san, Midoriya-kun and I, so the rest of the class is going to go around the table and introduce themselves,” the earnest teenager said emphatically. Hitsugaya noticeably stared at him, nonplussed by the strange behavior, but nodded once. Iida forced his lips into a broad smile that seemed unnatural on his face and tapped Tokoyami on his shoulder. The birdlike teenager quickly introduced himself, also relaying his Quirk, and as the rest of the teenagers currently sitting at the table followed suit, Izuku felt Hitsugaya tense again. He looked over to see the white-haired boy sitting rigidly in his seat, gaze focused on each person as they spoke with laserlike intensity, a million thoughts whirring behind those jewel-like eyes. His heart squeezed, remembering what Aizawa-sensei had said about the white-haired teenager with painful clarity.

_He has seen far, far too much violence for a fifteen-year-old, and he bears scars of those encounters, large scars, both mental and physical._

The warning had been very clear – Hitsugaya had been through hell somehow. And he’d been messed up in the head by whatever he’d been through. Izuku could definitely believe it. Every time someone moved even a little too quickly, Hitsugaya’s striking green eyes flickered across the table to them, and there was a slight shiver, like he was suppressing some violent reflex. But he was controlling it well, so hyperaware of his surroundings that it almost seemed the inadvertent twitching was both instinctively triggered and repressed in the same breath.

Izuku glanced down as his turn approached, again noticing the plastic white cuff on Hitsugaya’s gold-colored wrist. There were characters on its surface, carefully block-printed to make them easy to read, and Izuku just barely managed to decipher them from the sideways angle before Ojiro finished his introduction. Then he glanced up to meet Hitsugaya’s gaze.

“Ah, you know my name already…” he said sheepishly. “But my Quirk is a strength-enhancing type. I can’t really demonstrate it or use it seriously though because there’s too much rebound.”

Hitsugaya didn’t speak, but his lips thinned as he pressed them together. Not breaking eye contact, the brilliant cold emerald of his irises sparkling with inhuman light, Hitsugaya very deliberately moved his hand, making it impossible to read the characters. Then the white-haired teenager nodded once and turned his attention on Uraraka, who introduced herself with a cheery grin. After the whole table had gone around, it was Bakugo’s turn, and Kirishima nudged the blonde boy carefully.

“Bakugo, you’re up,” he whispered.

The explosive teenager scowled, red eyes flashing, and positively glared at the newcomer with quivering annoyance and anger etched into his face.

“Fine. Listen here, fuckhead,” he snapped, and Hitsugaya blinked and recoiled a bit at the typical Bakugo-style address. “I’m Bakugo Katsuki. My Quirk is-”

“Creating explosions using a nitroglycerin compound, if I’m not mistaken.”

Bakugo stopped short at the smooth sound of Hitsugaya’s calm voice finishing his statement. The white-haired boy was remarkably blank-faced, still sitting utterly still in the chair as if the slightest movement would send him running or trigger some vicious reaction. The rest of the class looked at Hitsugaya in slight awe. Bakugo looked almost livid, but Hitsugaya didn’t even seem fazed.

“Nitroglycerin has a distinctly sweet scent,” Hitsugaya continued, and Izuku cocked his head to the side as the boy’s medical bracelet came into view again, the golden knuckles whitening on the tabletop as he gripped the edge of the plastic table. The teenager’s blank expression turned serious. “You might want to hide that scent if you’re planning to use it in combat.”

Bakugo stared at the white-haired teenager with incredulity, then nodded imperceptibly, his eyes narrowing to thin slits as his sneer only grew.

“What are you, some kind of shitty wannabe tactician?” Bakugo mocked with a sneering laugh. “I didn’t ask for your fucking help, you pathetic shithead. Go whine somewhere else about how much of a sorry piece of shit you are and how having a miserable life and killing one big monster somehow makes you qualified to give decent advice.”

The table was dead silent, and then Iida shot out of his seat along with most of the rest of Class 1-A, yelling at Bakugo in paroxysms of rage. The blonde boy started yelling back, a vein popping out in his neck. Izuku ducked his head as Bakugo threw an empty plate, turning to give Hitsugaya an apologetic smile. But then a thin layer of frost covered the table, the temperature of the cafeteria dropping rapidly, and the air suddenly felt like syrup again. Everyone turned to Todoroki at the sudden cold, staring incredulously, but he held up his hands, also shivering.

“It’s n-not me,” he said, teeth chattering, wheezing just a little bit. Even Bakugo looked confused by the frigid wave that had turned everything in the cafeteria to soundless winter. And then, slowly, Hitsugaya stood up. Something about his white hair, gold-tinted skin, and emerald eyes seemed unbearably cold in that moment, a heartless mix of cruelty and anger yawning in the icy stare. Izuku stood up too, seeing that Hitsugaya’s frozen glare was trained on Bakugo, but the simple movement was difficult for some reason, gravity struggling to topple him.

“Hitsugaya-kun,” he said nervously, trying to distract the other boy, but Hitsugaya barely acknowledged his voice. The uniform pressed crisply on the new student’s shoulders seemed to be glowing faintly, like some strange, ghostly light was shining underneath the fabric. But Bakugo appeared almost completely unfazed, if a little thrown by the sudden cold and the extra pressure on his body. And Izuku could tell that it was making Hitsugaya pissed off.

“Tell me this, Bakugo-san,” Hitsugaya’s voice was carefully controlled, resulting in a blank, utterly neutral tone that fluctuated just enough to betray the effort it was taking to keep himself icy calm. “Would you be alive if not for my help during the attack on your match with Todoroki-san?”

Bakugo’s eyebrows twitched, and he slouched back into his chair, condescension in his red eyes.

“Yeah, I would be alive. You think I need your shit help? You got your fucking leg sliced open.”

Hitsugaya’s nose twitched, a sneer of his own crossing his attractive face. It wasn’t a nice expression and unlike Bakugo’s typical scorn, this smirk was malicious and cruel, a sort of pleasure in the twist of his lips.

“That was barely a scratch. I’ve had much worse,” he said dispassionately, and Izuku felt his heart swell with compassion despite how utterly terrifying Hitsugaya’s dark fury was. “My point stands. You know nothing about what those creatures are, or how to defeat them. And yet somehow you believe you wouldn’t have been eaten alive by that ‘monster.’ Arrogance.”

Bakugo’s mouth opened a little bit, confusion passing over his face, and Kirishima stepped in with a nervous look at his explosive friend.

“Uh…eaten alive?” he asked, a little bit of fear in his voice, and Hitsugaya smiled unpleasantly before closing his face off.

“Rather nasty way to die, being bitten in half.” The white-haired boy’s voice was quickly becoming detached, almost clinical, and the frigid anger was disappearing behind an emotionless mask. Slowly, the chill and cloying pressure in the air faded away. Izuku stiffened, glancing back down at the medical bracelet that was clasped around Hitsugaya wrist, then looked back up, horror on his face as the realization hit.

“Hitsugaya-kun…you’ve seen it happen, haven’t you?” He couldn’t stop the words from shivering as they left his lips, but it seemed to shock the other teen out of his mental retreat. Hitsugaya looked surprised by his commentary, like he hadn’t been expecting someone to make that leap in logic. Class 1-A stared, even Bakugo, who was already turning a little bit paler at the thought of watching people being eaten alive. And then Hitsugaya’s emerald glare melted into something horribly vulnerable, dropping to the floor.

“…I’ve let it happen,” he murmured after a moment. “Because of my own weakness. Because I wasn’t fast enough, wasn’t strong enough, because _I_ wasn’t enough.”

He took a slow, rattling breath.

“Never again,” he said, and finally lifted his head to look at the gaping Bakugo again. “I have the knowledge on how to kill those things. And I have the experience to actually do it. So yes. Killing ‘one big monster’ makes me qualified to give advice. Because I am _never_ going to let any innocent people get hurt because of my weakness again.”

Izuku had never, in all his life, seen Bakugo silenced the way he was at that moment, and frankly, he understood why.

Sure. Class 1-A had been attacked by villains during the whole USJ fiasco, but nobody had died. Aizawa had been beaten into unconsciousness, and Thirteen had been shredded by his own powers, and All Might had collapsed from exhaustion, but the students had been somewhat removed from the battle with villains of actual substance. And Aizawa, Thirteen and All Might were still up and walking around, still dealing with students and assigning homework. It had been a terrifying experience, yes. But it hadn’t been watching a thirty-foot-tall monster bite a man in half, or fighting for their lives while trying to keep innocent people from being eaten alive. It hadn’t been receiving injuries somehow worse than almost having a leg sliced off and still being non-fatal. And the horrors of those experiences were so, so plain on Hitsugaya’s face, the conflicting anger and despair and guilt warring on the golden backdrop of his cheeks and forehead.

Without realizing it, Izuku took a half-step forward, inching a little bit closer to his new classmate, and gently put a hand on his shoulder, careful that he made enough movement to let the boy know what was going on. Hitsugaya tensed at the contact, then turned that vivid green stare on him, that horrible guilty rage still smoldering in his eyes. Izuku swallowed hard, a bit nervous, but he steeled himself as best as he could.

“…I know you think that it’s just duty that forces some people to help others – I was listening when you were talking to Todoroki-kun,” he started a little anxiously, trying not to stutter under the intensity of that gaze. “But…but you still had a choice, didn’t you? You could have been selfish and run away…but you didn’t.”

Hitsugaya blinked once, his hands curling into fists at his side, and shook his head.

“Stop it,” he commanded, his voice trembling. “There was no choice. Not for me.”

Izuku nodded shakily and smiled, finally finding a way to get to the point he was trying to make.

“That’s because you’re a good person,” he said earnestly. “Because even…even if you weren’t enough, not yet, then you were at least _something_. You at least could do _something_.”

There was a short silence while the white-haired teenager thought that over, and then something nameless glinted on his face and he turned away with a bitter laugh. Izuku could feel him shaking even with just the small touch on the other teen’s shoulder, and as the label on the bracelet drifted across his mind again, he gathered a second spike of courage.

“Hitsugaya-kun…I don’t think you can blame yourself for trying – or failing – to save people when the pros weren’t around,” he said quietly, and watched as the bitter smile on Hitsugaya’s golden face spread into a strange sort of cynical grimace, like he was biting back an even greater sense of guilt. His shoulders rounded, the perfect posture he’d so effortlessly displayed suddenly crumbling. His hands came up to cover his face, and he stayed hunched over for a moment. But then he straightened back up, the cold, mildly polite composure settling over his comely features, and quirked the corner of his mouth up in what was almost – though perfunctory – a smile at Izuku.

“…Thank you, Midoriya-san,” he replied graciously, and as Izuku felt his lips curl helplessly upward in response, the coldness of Hitsugaya’s neutral face melted into a more pleasant coolness, a hint of nostalgia present there. His body language unwound fractionally, eyebrows drawing up his forehead just a hair. But even that little bit was enough to hint at the boy beneath the cold scowl and piercing glare, and Izuku couldn’t help but turn a little bit pink as he realized that _he_ had inadvertently caused that reaction.

“You smile a lot,” Hitsugaya noticed, the quirking of his lips hinting that with another little push the current twitch could break into a full, if small, smile. Izuku turned from slightly pink to full-on red, heat rising to his cheeks.

“Uh-uh…S-sorry, it’s a little bit…uh, a little bit of a reflex?” He tried not to cringe at the way his voice squeaked on the final note, but luckily Hitsugaya just waited patiently for him to finish, still just a tad softer around the edges. The white-haired boy’s cold glare became a bit faraway.

“Don’t apologize,” he rebuked gently, gaze dropping “You…you just remind me of someone I once knew.”

Izuku cocked his head to the side, blinking owlishly, and without really thinking the situation over, he opened his mouth.

“…What you mean you ‘once knew’ someone?” he asked, puzzled. Hitsugaya’s softness became tinged with melancholy.

“The person she once was died.” His voice was quiet, cracked with sorrow. “The girl she became afterward couldn’t smile like that ever again. And least of all could she smile like that at me. I…I’m still questioning why.”

Izuku went a terrifying shade of grey, suddenly feeling horrible that he’d triggered such a bad memory, but Hitsugaya chose exactly moment to speak again.

“Don’t lose your ability to smile, Midoriya-san,” he requested plainly, the slight tremor in his voice betraying the importance of this wish, and Izuku stiffened in surprise. Then he smiled again, as widely as he could.

“I won’t!” he promised, completely certain of his choice. He wanted to be a hero that smiled, one that would inspire reassurance and hope in people suffering because of natural disasters or villains. So if he lost that ability, he’d lose that dream. And after everything All Might had given him, he couldn’t afford that.

But when he saw the twitching of Hitsugaya’s lips twist up and settle, the faint smile finally present on that golden face, somehow it felt like that dream was a lot closer than he thought.


	7. Build Up, Break Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you may notice something here - I've messed with the timeline a bit. Just spreading things out to be a little less clustered - there's not going to be a real consequence of the rearranging.  
> Enjoy!

 

* * *

It wasn't fair.

Or, at least, that's what Iida said. Several times. Each more upset than the last, a strange dark despondence invading his entire personality. Izuku would have almost been amused if he didn't know that anything Iida did had to be in complete earnest. But, to be honest, it was rather refreshing to have a new competitor for the top student slot in nearly every class. Even Yaoyorozu acknowledged that she was oddly happy with the new competition. And for his part, Hitsugaya didn't flaunt it. He was perfectly happy to receive his flawless grades in math, chemistry, biology, and English – _perfect grades in English, how in the hell did he do that, whoever invented that language lacked all common sense –_ without making a big deal out of it.

And then, a week after Hitsugaya had joined the class, everyone got back the essay that Cementoss had assigned them in Japanese Literature. There were a few explosions of tears from Ashido and Kaminari, as had become rather standard, as well as a rare sigh of disappointment from Yaoyorozu – you only lost _two points_ , Yaomomo-chan, _come on_ – but as soon as the bell for lunch rang, they all stayed back to compare essay scores, even Kaminari, who had somehow scored a _30_.

"Midoriya-kun, what was your score?" Iida's voice was light, though it felt a little strained, and Izuku felt a pang of sympathy when he remembered the horrible phone call Iida had received two days after the U.A. Sports Festival. Izuku held up his paper with a sheepish grin.

"I got a 95." He showed the other boy his paper, a bit flushed. "I forgot to put in three quotes and lost five points."

Iida's glasses glimmered with earnest understanding, pointing his hands about like a robot.

"Ah, that's a terribly silly mistake for a quality paper, Midoriya-kun," he commiserated. "I must say I did better – I received a perfect score on my essay."

Izuku felt his heart jump a bit at the actual satisfaction on his friend's face, happy that the good grade had put at least a little bit of joy back into his friend's heart. And then he saw Hitsugaya standing off to the side, flipping through the paper he'd written with quick, frustrated motions. His white shoe was tapping against the floor, a tiny tic Izuku had noticed that tended to appear when he was getting annoyed. Careful not to draw attention to himself or the obviously-irritated Hitsugaya, he slipped away from the others.

"Ah, H-Hitsugaya-kun, is everything okay?" he asked, trying to keep his voice down. Hitsugaya glanced up with a jerk, startled to the point of actually flinching back, and Izuku had to swallow a gasp of pity. Hitsugaya didn't seem like the type who would appreciate pity. The quiet teenager regarded him for a minute, then let out a huge breath, his cheeks puffing out and his eyebrows knitting together to create a kittenish annoyance that almost made Izuku laugh. Then he grudgingly handed Izuku the paper he'd written.

There were red marks. A lot of them. And when Izuku flipped the pages back to look at the front, a large red 73 was staring back at him. He blinked in absolute shock, not expecting the near-genius to do so comparatively poor on any assignment. Then he shifted his gaze up to meet the white-haired boy's piercing, slightly terrifying glare only to see that Hitsugaya's perfect posture had slouched a bit and he'd looked away. A faint rosy tinge stained the mysterious teenager's cheeks.

_He's embarrassed._ _Oh. Oh goodness, how do I handle this?_

"Um…" he took a moment to analyze the argument that Hitsugaya had written, and he cocked an eyebrow. "Um, w-well, your paper isn't actually too bad – you just didn't explain yourself well enough."

Hitsugaya frowned then, the rosy tinge still flushing his cheeks, but he straightened up and met Izuku's gaze.

"How so?" he asked, a bit warily. Izuku tapped the beginning of the third paragraph, which Cementoss-sensei had circled widely.

"Uh…like here, look. I don't know how you managed to connect the woman's death to the garden – I mean, I made the connection in my essay too, so I know _how_ – but you just equate them. There's no 'why the author chose to' or how this is logically a conclusion to draw." Hitsugaya read over the paragraph he'd written. Then his frown crimped a little bit, his brows furrowing in confusion. Izuku tried not to stare. Hitsugaya was blushing. And confused. And leaning over his shoulder, the mop of snow-white hair soft and fluffy. Why did this guy look _so much_ like a squishy marshmallow when he was the most reserved, cold person Izuku had ever met?

"…But it's so obvious," Hitsugaya said, exasperated, and suddenly Izuku knew where the problem was.

"To you, yes," Izuku agreed, the gears in his brain already starting to turn. "You're highly intelligent, so much so that logical connections like this one mean these two symbols don't even register as separate topics to you. But that means that you operate on a psychological expectation that the rest of the world can see these same kinds of connections and therefore you don't have the subconscious need to explain this sort of link."

For a second Hitsugaya was quiet, blinking owlishly. Then his lips quirked again and Izuku almost got the feeling that the reserved teenager was admiring his theory. There was a knowing sort of glint in those gemlike eyes, the twitch of the muscles in his jaw betraying what could have been a smile but refused to show. And for the first time, his body language appeared to relax a bit, a kind of hesitant tolerance of the classroom environment apparently beginning to form.

"Thank you, Midoriya-san. That was helpful," he said after a moment, the confusion and flush of embarrassment melting from his facial features. Izuku went a bit pink himself, suddenly feeling like Hitsugaya had been the one to teach _him_ something and not the other way around.

"A-ah, don't…uhm, don't mention it," he squeaked, and Hitsugaya just gave him that same patient, slightly approving look, then took his essay back and put it in his messenger bag. The white-haired teen then quietly slipped out the door by himself.

Uraraka and Iida bounced up behind Izuku, watching as Hitsugaya ghosted away, the long, sheathed sword on his back still riding comfortably between his shoulder blades. Once they were sure Hitsugaya was out of earshot, Uraraka spoke up.

"He actually likes you, Deku-kun," she commented curiously, and Izuku reeled back in shock at the offhand observation, flailing wildly.

"Ah-ah, Uraraka-san, that's not-"

"Uraraka-chan is right, Midoriya-kun," Iida interjected a little bit tiredly. "I have not seen Hitsugaya-kun yet tolerate much interaction with any of the members of Class 1-A besides you. He…he rather avoids being in our presence, I think."

Izuku looked at the ground for a moment, remembering the label on the plastic medical bracelet on Hitsugaya's wrist. He bit his lower lip, worrying it with his teeth anxiously as he fidgeted, debating on whether or not to tell Iida and Uraraka about the diagnosis he'd seen. But then he sighed and decided against it. Hitsugaya would tell everyone when he was ready – it wasn't fair for him to reveal that secret just because he'd been nosy.

"I…I think it's probably because I remind him of that person he knew," Izuku said after a moment, carefully choosing his words. "He doesn't really seem like the type of person to trust easily, so that's probably why he tolerates me a little better."

It took a moment, but then Uraraka and Iida nodded in agreement, seeing the logic in Izuku's quiet theory. Then, as the rest of the crowd of grade-comparing students began to meander toward the exit, the trio followed. The lunch hour was brief, the conversations between the three friends making it seem much shorter than it was, and then they all headed back to the classroom only to find that Midnight and Aizawa-sensei were both in the room, holding stacks of paper. Hitsugaya arrived just as the bell was ringing, sliding into the back of the room like a shadow and taking his seat before the sound died off.

Then the pair of teachers pointed out the packets of paper on some students' desks, and Midnight grinned foxily.

"Alright kids! For those of you unaware, you are all going to be doing internships with Pro-heroes for a week, starting two days from now, and you'll be doing that instead of your regular schooling. You'll be allowed to wear your hero costumes for this internship, and today in class we'll be coming up with your code names. Those of you with the packets of paper on your desks, you were extended offers from certain hero agencies based on how well you performed in the U.A. Sports Festival a few weeks ago. Those of you with only one sheet of paper, that is the list of agencies we've partnered with that will accept any of our students. And remember to _learn_ while you're there. Final exams take place a month after you all return."

Almost immediately, the entire class burst into chatter and titters of excitement. Midnight cracked her whip, causing everyone to instantly fall silent.

"I will be judging your hero names. You could be stuck with these for the rest of your careers, so make sure they're good!" she snapped. Aizawa, bored, zipped up his sleeping bag and rolled into a corner, and then the students got to work. And then, hesitantly, Hitsugaya raised his hand.

"…Is there a specific reason I was not issued a list of the agencies?" he asked, eyes already narrowed in thought. Midnight nodded with a sigh, her expression faintly apologetic.

"Yes – Principal Nedzu decided it would be best for you to use this week as time to catch up on your studies. You will not be participating in the internship. You may use this time to make a preliminary sketch of your hero costume, however, if you are any closer to remembering your Quirk's particulars," she said. Hitsugaya merely nodded and ducked his head a bit, pulling out his notebook. Absently, he started to write, his hand moving quick and fast over the paper. Izuku glanced back at the other boy with some dismay, but said nothing, knowing that Midnight was right – especially if Hitsugaya's memory loss involved his Quirk at all. Meanwhile, he looked down at the page in his hands, where only one name was present.

_Gran Torino._

* * *

Honestly, he was glad that he was being excluded from the internships.

Hitsugaya ignored all the fuss over hero codenames, filling in more of his hairline theories on the Quirk that had brought him to this dimension. He was starting to get frustrated with his lack of discernable progress, though he had found at least a few leads through some less-than-legal internet forums. Most promising among them was a villain called Kurogiri, who had the rare ability to create warp gates. With the right trigger, maybe he could also open the Senkaimon.

After class was dismissed for the day, Hitsugaya jogged down to the school's huge library and checked in with the librarian. He spent the next four hours sorting books and thinking, the work-study program job monotonous enough to allow his brain to churn along at the usual breakneck speed. It was rather pleasant, he was slowly coming to realize, this existence. There was the expectation that all the students would graduate and fight crime for a living, and so while they were still sheltered, they weren't being handled with kiddie gloves. Even he was being given a little bit of space, monitored from afar as he settled into Class 1-A, his PTSD misdiagnosis not a constant bitter thorn in his side.

But the fact remained that his presence was causing the dormant reishi particles of this world to cling to him like a gigai, to quicken and hum with just enough energy for Hollows to rip through. He was lucky that a second one hadn't appeared since the first Adjuchas, but it was only a matter of time before the tear grew in size. And the only way to permanently stop them was to go home.

Which was proving impossible.

It was true that as a student of the U.A. he was privy to a great deal of information he otherwise would not have been able to access. However, it wasn't enough. And it was only slightly helpful.

After his shift in the library ended, he ran effortlessly back to his dorm room and threw off his uniform. Hyourinmaru hummed quietly in the back of his mind, staying silent as he stepped into the shower and stood under the cool water for a few long minutes. Both dragon Zanpakutou spirit and his shinigami master were restless, disturbed by the lack of information, and dismayed by the dwindling chance of their return to Soul Society. Toushiro sighed, his breath freezing a few of the water droplets on contact, and grudgingly started to wash his hair. By the time he stepped out of the shower and into a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants All Might had given him, it was late, and the sun had disappeared beyond the horizon. He breezed through the homework easily, barely glancing at any of the jejune assignments.

And then he felt it. The sharp, unsettling coldness of a needle pricking over his neck, a draft cool air rushing in from the window over his exposed skin, and the room slowly vanished into white, white, white- he couldn't move-

_So stubborn, Hitsugaya-taicho. Relax, and this will all be over before you know it._

Kurotsuchi's voice was patient and patronizing, and the needle tickling his carotid artery burned as it sank through his skin, charring him from the inside out, and he was _screaming_ , and everything was on fire but he _couldn't move- couldn't move- tied down-_ Where was Matsumoto? _Zombified_ by Giselle, Giselle with dark hair and a cruel laugh and the dead eyes of Madarame and Ayasagewa as his body cut them down and _he couldn't do anything_. Breathe, one, two, but there was something in his mouth – _blood, Giselle, forcing it down his throat as he's clinging to life_ – and everything was on fire, his blood boiling, _make it stop, Kurotsuchi_ -

A door opened with a thud – _Kurotsuchi Nemu, syringes in hand_ – he was coughing blood and white lab walls were fading into darkness, there was another needle in his neck- the walls were light green, why- softness in a coffin that forces air into his aching lungs- carpet beneath his hands, see, he can move- everything was burning again, make it stop- cold air against his hand, warmth beneath his cheek, a heartbeat loud and strong, a hand in his hair.

"You're safe, Hitsugaya-kun. Nobody here is going to hurt you."

Aizawa.

Kurotsuchi's lab disappeared. The needles stopped coming, the burn of chemicals and blood searing his veins with unnatural fire vanishing. He was on the floor, crumpled into a ball, his hands locked over the back of his neck as if he was trying to hide, to curl inwards on himself until he dissolved into nothing. Aizawa was sitting with him, cradling him gently against a strong chest, one hand running gently through his white hair. Hitsugaya jerked away, or tried to, but the dark-haired teacher appeared to have anticipated the move and he didn't let go as easily as Hitsugaya had expected. The young shinigami froze, so startled by the resistance that he actually had to pause and take a breath.

_It happened again_.

The thought was gut-wrenching and terrifying all in one, and he'd been desperately trying to avoid letting it cross his mind. But while he was held like this, acutely aware of how disconnected from the world he'd become, it was impossible to ignore. He'd let a human – _a living human_ – sneak up on him, touch him, hug him, all without even realizing what was happening. He'd become so lost in the horror of his memories that he'd ceased to comprehend what was going on in the present. Slowly, he took a shuddering breath, trying to hold off the dawning realization. If he'd been in Seireitei when this happened, fighting a Hollow, commanding troops, even conducting a training exercise, this episode could have been the cause of someone's death. Hyourinmaru stirred in the back of his mind, the icy coils of the dragon's silver-blue body shifting as the powerful, wise creature reared his head.

_"_ _Running from your fears only causes them to grow deeper roots, little one."_ The dragon's voice was soft like a fine drizzle of rain, knowing that his master and partner's crumbling ability to deny his reality was painful enough without a massive ice dragon saying, 'I told you so'. _"And this particular weed has had twenty years to grow and take root in your soul."_

"I'm not…" his voice cracked, splitting into an embarrassingly pitchy high note, and Aizawa let out a sigh of both resignation and no little concern.

"You don't have to pretend that you're okay, kid," he said gruffly, a sort of dreary wisdom in his eyes. "I've seen a lot of heroes twice your age functioning only half as well with severe PTSD."

Hitsugaya felt fire surge through his mind, uncontrollable anger melting his icy reserve into faint glassy shards, and he lashed out in the only way he knew how, shoving at Aizawa violently. But the man had expected that as well, and suddenly Hitsugaya found a couple of stiff bands of metal woven into bandages snap snugly about his wrists, pinning him. The sudden restraints were too much, and as Hitsugaya started kicking and thrashing about, the metallic bandages caught his ankles and shoulders too, binding him tightly.

"I _don't have_ any sort of mental disability, you pathetic, weak-minded scrap of-"

"PTSD isn't a mental disability, Hitsugaya-kun." Aizawa's voice was still completely calm. Unbelievable. It was infuriating, and as that dark, tired gaze found his again Toushiro found himself entirely losing his cool, howling mad for absolutely no reason. He kept struggling, finding it increasingly difficult to refrain from displaying his shinigami strength and tearing through the thin metal like paper. And Aizawa – the _bastard_ – just kept him close, ignoring the way his pinned hands were repeatedly beating against the broad chest holding him prisoner. And the teacher's calm, patient expression never changed, never once turning upset or annoyed no matter how Toushiro yelled or struggled, all of the hurtful, cold things rolling from the young captain's tongue ignored so easily that it seemed he wasn't even hearing them.

But after thirty minutes of fruitless yelling and screaming, Hitsugaya went still, his chest heaving, his throat sore from the constant string of nasty expletives. And Aizawa still sat there, his expression calm, his scraggly dark hair pulled back in a messy low ponytail. Hitsugaya closed his eyes, swallowing the numb ache in his chest with a lot of difficulty. He could still hear Aizawa's heartbeat beneath his ear, the sound strangely grounding.

"…a lot of trauma patients get angry very easily." Aizawa's voice was neutral, almost conversational, and that strange aimlessness made Toushiro pause, still choking back the rising tide of boiling emotion in his chest. The teacher then glanced down, and Toushiro sucked in a shaky breath. There was no pity in those dark eyes, only sorrow and understanding.

"They want other people to be mad at them," Aizawa said, the gruffness of his tone gentling just a little bit. "They feel so terribly guilty that they want the entire world to hate them so that they feel like they're getting what they deserve."

It was like he'd been kicked in the chest, and he stared up at the human man who had somehow cut right to his core in one single sentence. He couldn't breathe. It took a minute for him to muster up the strength to speak, but when he did his words were faint, incredulous.

"…It _was_ my fault," he whispered, and Aizawa raised an eyebrow at him, that same look of sorrow and understanding in the grim, stubbly lines around his mouth.

"Did you, _willingly_ , choose to cause or participate in whatever event you're feeling guilty for? Did you have any control over the situation at all?" he asked gently, and Hitsugaya, after a moment's thought, shook his head with a hint of desperation. He could feel the swell of emotion starting to break, starting to surge through his defenses, and he needed control back before everything came crashing down around his head like ice dominos.

"That's not what-"

"You can't blame yourself for things you can't control, Hitsugaya-kun," Aizawa scolded lightly, and then he pulled the metal bandages off Hitsugaya's ankles, wrists, and shoulders in order to push the teenager back. He put his hands on Toushiro's shoulders, looking at him sternly.

"It's not your fault, kiddo," he told the young shinigami firmly. "It's _not_ your fault."

First it was one droplet. Then two, a pair leaking over the top wall of the dam stretched to the breaking point. And then with a third, enough stony resolve had eroded away that the dam cracked and burst in a spectacular shower of saltwater. And Toushiro buckled, burying his face in his hands, shoulders shaking violently as he struggled vainly to keep his eyes dry. Aizawa reached out and carefully took him, pulling him into a second hug. Toushiro hung there limply, his face hiding in his teacher's shoulder, hiccupping erratically as the tears kept coming. And then Aizawa smiled a little bit, ruffling his student's pure snow-colored hair.

"If you need to cry now, I will not see anything," he murmured softly. And true to his word, he saw nothing as Toushiro finally began to sob.

It didn't take nearly as long for Hitsugaya to cry through his grief as it had taken him to rage through his anger, but it was twice as draining. By the time his emotions had run dry, the anger and grief and confusion and raw, stupefying guilt had quietly faded into a blank sort of numbness. He felt empty, completely lost, and for once he let himself think about what had happened. He avoided the memory of the pitched battles with the Quincy, or the time he spent in Kurotsuchi's hands, but he did let himself think about what he had done after the war.

He'd done a lot of motivational, positive things for the destroyed Seireitei. The Tenth Division had been the first division to once again be fully operational, and he'd volunteered a lot of his own time to help rebuild the Sixth, Fifth, and Thirteenth Divisions. He'd fronted the effort to reconstruct Central 46, carefully laying the framework which would allow scribes and learned men from the Rukongai to be elected into the ranks of a subcommittee designed to help balance the heavy-handed noble influence in the government. He'd made the Tenth Division the most efficient in Seireitei, taking on hundreds of patrols a month and successfully completing all of them. He'd even begun offering personal training sessions with his seated officers and the unseated shinigami that his higher ranks recommended for development. It had eaten into his free time and caused him to lose several hours of sleep a week, but it had boosted the morale in his division to an all-time high.

And he'd never given himself the time to think about the horrors he'd experienced. He'd never allowed himself the few moments he needed to look in the mirror and face the ghosts of the Eleventh Division haunting him. He'd exhausted himself day after day to avoid seeing Giselle's eerie face in his dreams, and to keep him moving, keep his defenses perfect so that war would never happen again.

But here, in this new world, where he couldn't do useful things forever and people would question it if he only let himself sleep five hours a night, he didn't have those distractions. There weren't any excuses for jumping a mile when people snuck up on him, or easy, paperwork-related explanations for the aimless fury that sometimes consumed him whole. He couldn't lash out at people here and brush it off as a captain's prerogative. And the cause of it all was finally starting to sink in.

_"_ _You have to admit it to yourself before you can start to fight it, little one,"_ Hyourinmaru said gently, his presence quiet. Hitsugaya took a deep breath, still shaky, and pulled carefully out of Aizawa's hold. The dark-haired teacher let him, still watching him cautiously. Absently, Toushiro realized that the light on his medical cuff, which had been blinking red, had now shut off. Odd.

"…thank you, Aizawa-sensei," he whispered hoarsely, acutely aware of the redness of his eyes. Shame boiled in his cheeks, and he ducked his head. "I apologize for-"

"No."

A calloused hand cupped his chin, forcing his head up so that he was staring directly into Aizawa's stern glare.

"You will not apologize for this," he repeated stiffly. "PTSD is not something you apologize for. It is not something you feel shame for. It means you went through an awful, terrifying event and were strong enough to survive it."

_"_ _ You are not weak, Master. I would not give my loyalty to a weakling. Own this and destroy it head-on." _

Toushiro felt some thin pane of glassy pride crack in his heart, and with a tremendous amount of effort, he finally overcame the furious despair just long enough to speak.

"…I really have it, don't I?" he whispered, knuckles going white on his knees. Aizawa let out a long-suffering sigh.

"Yeah, kid, you do," he said, a little gruff but still obviously concerned. "The psychiatrist that diagnosed you was positive once you started having flashbacks and losing touch with reality, but he also did point out that a lot of the anger you seem to feel is probably a symptom of your PTSD, along with the difficulty you seem to experience while controlling your anger or other strong emotions. Feeling extreme guilt especially is a part of it as well."

A hollow laugh left Hitsugaya's mouth. Not his fault? Shouldn't apologize? Suffering from PTSD was one of the many things that captains shouldn't do. That Captains _couldn't_ do, because the thirteen captains of the Gotei 13 were pillars of unyielding strength that would never give up Seireitei until they were taking their last breath. But he didn't say anything to Aizawa about his position. The dark-haired teacher didn't need to know about Seireitei, or shinigami, or the Gotei 13. Because here, in this world, he could take the time to fight his way through the flashbacks on his own, while he was searching for the one person who could cross dimensions and take him home. He didn't have any distractions here. And that meant he would be forced to face the terror he'd been running from.

He took another deep breath and glanced down at the medical band on his wrist, glaring at the characters there with narrowed emerald eyes. _Ailment: Severe PTSD._

"Not for long, it's not," he growled under his breath. And then as he followed his student's gaze, Aizawa smiled a real smile, a hint of pride flickering across his face. Then the pro-hero paused and took a slow breath, that smile growing wider.

It had been the first time Hitsugaya had called him 'Aizawa-sensei.'

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? Leave a review and tell me! (Also, I reserve the right to give spoilers to my favorite reviews)


	8. Witness

The week of the internships was incredible. Except for initial first day, where Gran Torino had acted like a senile old man just to drive the message through Izuku's head – _you are not All Might –_ Izuku was learning a lot. He'd already developed Full Cowl, and though the technique packed a bit of punch, it would need practice for him to eventually achieve that 100% power level that All Might seemed to output effortlessly. Gran Torino had been extremely helpful, even going as far as to feed him lots of Taiyaki and bring him over to a friend's agency to search for crime themselves.

But as they were on the train, passing through Hosu, disaster struck. A villain shot through the metal wall of the train car with such intensity that the train caved in, and Gran Torino had to spring into action. He'd been warned to stay in the train, of course, but when the realization that Nomus were attack finally hit, the only person Izuku could think of was Iida. Earnest, straight-laced Iida, whose elder brother had nearly been killed in Hosu by the deranged Hero Killer, Stain.

And suddenly everything made a lot of sense, and he'd leapt from the train car, sprinting for the heart of the chaos.

The center of the Hosu district was in flames, the screams of the beastlike Nomus echoing violently in the air, and as he'd watched he saw a pillar of fire erupt from some point the distance. Endeavor, the Flame Hero. There was no way the Hero Killer would be there, as there would undoubtedly be too much going on for the serial killer to drag his victims off. Iida wouldn't have gone there.

And so Izuku hadn't either, running at full tilt past alleyways until he'd seen a long, jagged blade poised at Iida's throat, and before he'd even known what he was doing he'd leapt, green lightning flickering around his body, Full Cowl searing his muscles with energy. He'd been nicked with the blade, and then Todoroki had showed up, responding to his distress call on his phone just in time to prevent Iida's death again. And they'd fought. They'd fought like hell, pushing through pain and terror alike until the Hero Killer was unconscious, sprawled on the ice spreading up the side of the buildings. And then Endeavour and Gran Torino were there, with several other heroes and sidekicks, and Native was carrying him piggyback-style because his calf had been slashed and he could barely put any weight at all on it after that last jump. And the Hero Killer had been caught, arrested, and that was that.

But as they were walking toward the hospital, they turned a corner and saw the sprawled form of a winged Nomu in the street, its eyes frozen open in death. Both of its wings had been severed from its dark body, the brain protruding from its head split apart, the neck slashed through. Dark blood covered the street, pooling on the tarmac and trickling toward a nearby storm grate. Izuku felt his stomach lurch wildly, and as both of his hands shot to his mouth in an effort to prevent himself from throwing up he heard Iida start puking behind him. Endeavor took a few steps forward, kneeling in a dry spot beside the dead, humanoid creature with narrow blue eyes, and then stood back up and looked around.

"This blood is fresh. Whoever killed this villain is close by," he growled. "On your guard. I don't think we're meant any harm, but these are expert wounds."

One of the sidekicks stiffened in no slight alarm as Native and the two heroes helping Iida and Todoroki – the younger Todoroki – slid into place in the center of the ring.

"Endeavor-san, what exactly do you mean by that?" he asked. The Flame Hero grunted.

"Look closely. The wings were both cut off – to prevent escape. And then the next two blows are both meant for a quick, nearly-painless kill. One across the throat, to kill the body, and the other through the brain so the creature wouldn't watch its own blood pool in the street," he grunted, glancing around at the nearby alleyways with a wary glance as the group moved through the street away from the Nomu's grotesque carcass. "And all of this was done without visible signs of struggle from the creature, a creature which we had a great deal of trouble with. So as I said – expert technique."

Izuku stared back at the limp body of the thing in the road, Endeavor's analysis nearly flawless in his ears. It was almost too perfect, the execution of the once-human monstrosity, and while the sight made him sick, he was slowly starting to understand that whomever had killed the Nomu, they'd tried to make it quick. Whoever they were, they weren't like the Hero Killer, Stain, because for all his preaching, he'd still left Iida's brother to suffer and bleed out. This unknown vigilante hadn't been so cruel.

And then, for some reason, he looked up. Perhaps it was the whisper of unseasonably cold wind on the back of his neck, or the slight pressure on his temples that triggered the move, but either way, for some reason he looked. And the moonlight caught against a gleaming arc of silvery metal, illuminating snow-like strands of icy hair with silver light. Sitting on top of the office building just next to the fallen Nomu was a wan-looking teenager with an unsheathed katana of unusual length in his pale-gold hand, a grieving expression on his shadowed face. A black butterfly was sitting on his fingertip, an odd kind of blue glow surrounding it and the dash of magenta on its wing, and he was speaking softly to it.

Hitsugaya.

Izuku watched him breathlessly as he was carried away, heart dropping into his stomach as the pieces clicked together in his hand. Hitsugaya, with his strange, almost-speed Quirk and long blade, would have been the perfect person to take down the Nomu. The birdlike man wouldn't have even seen him coming. It would probably have been dead before it hit the ground.

And then it hit him.

_Hitsugaya had killed something human._

Iida followed his gaze, looking up at the rooftop with some confusion, and then turned back to Izuku with a frown of concern.

"Midoriya-kun, what are you looking at?" he inquired politely, his voice still subdued from the aftermath of realizing his actions. Izuku blinked, realizing that he'd drifted out focus in the few seconds since he'd seen his mysterious classmate silhouetted against the moon like the angel of death. And then Hitsugaya was gone. As simple as that, quick and easy as a single blink, and he had disappeared.

"…I saw Hitsugaya-kun," he breathed, and without even looking he knew Iida had stiffened, also understanding that the teenager's peculiar Quirk would have been the perfect method for killing the Nomu in the exact way that Endeavor had described. The only question was now something chilling – a possibility that Izuku didn't even want to consider creeping into the corners of his mind.

_How did Hitsugaya – who wasn't on an internship – know to come out to Hosu?_

* * *

It had been three days since Aizawa had come into his room and forced him to admit to his psychological condition. And then the game changed.

He'd known the second the itch had stopped. He'd been preoccupied with smearing liberal amounts of moisturizing lotion on his hands, the scaly strangeness that sometimes happened apparently causing his skin to dry out three times faster than he was used to. And once he'd used the lotion, massaging it into his skin in small circles, he'd lifted his head from the computer screen where he was talking with several people in various, questionable forums on the internet. And he'd felt it, the unmistakable crawling reiatsu of a twisted, tormented human soul prickling at his skin instead of the uncomfortable sensation of silver-blue scales prickling under his muscle

Toushiro hadn't thought after that. He'd seized Hyourinmaru and leapt from his dorm window, landing lightly on the air and springing forward with careless grace. He'd fallen farther than he'd meant to, the reishi in the atmosphere sluggish and sleepy compared with the reishi present in his home dimension. He'd had to compensate for its dormant state, pulling it forward just a bit before he landed to break his fall, but he made good time nonetheless, crossing the Tokyo skyline like a flittering ghost in his black t-shirt, dark jeans, and grey high-top sneakers, the ones with the worn star on the side. Hyourinmaru's blade, the sheath dissolved, was in his hand, the dragon's voice purring in his mind. All he could think about were those three souls, tortured and pained, trapped in living bodies, of all things.

Pity welled up in his heart, pity mixed with burning, blistering anger as he beheld the flame and smoke from the place where heroes were currently leaping on and subduing two of the creatures he'd sensed. He could see what had happened now, the cruel experimentation that these humans had undergone. It had been horrific, the extent of this meddling, and he knew this because he could sense the stifled humanity within these mindless beasts, the twisted souls caught in a web of genetic manipulation and torture until the human spirit was stretched to the breaking point.

But two had already been captured by humans. Those two it would be too dangerous to kill, to release from their torment with Hyourinmaru's purifying edge. He would go for the third instead. He sent a quick prayer to whatever force governed the balance of human souls after the Soul King's death as he sped away from the two creatures, praying for a quick release from their unrepairable states.

And then he found the third beast. It was flying, screeching madly as it wheeled in the sky, and he closed his eyes. Hyourinmaru's blade flashed red thrice. And then the creature lay dying in the street, the ghost of the man it had once been taking shape some distance from the slain carcass. Hitsugaya gently picked up the spirit in his arms and Shunpoed to the top of the building right next door, drawing away from the edge as the very-human reiatsu of heroes approached. The spirit stared at him with wide, terrified eyes, looking at the blade in his hand in shock. Then the ghost had turned back to the body lying in the street.

"I was inside that," he'd said weakly. Toushiro had gazed at him sadly, compassion etched into every line of his face.

"Yes," he'd said gently, years of experience dealing with the newly-deceased softening his scowl into a grieving smile, his glare into a glance of soft pity. The spirit had fixated on him, turning away from the carcass in the street one last time, a sort of recognition flickering across his features. The spirit had once been a handsome man, Hitsugaya had realized sadly. He'd looked like the sort to have a happy young wife and a kid or two.

"You…killed me. When I was that thing."

There was nothing Hitsugaya could've said to refute the statement, so he didn't. Instead, he'd just bowed his head in silence for a moment, then gave the man that same sad smile.

"I'm sorry, human," he'd said gently, the blade in his hand gleaming in the moonlight. "I did what I had to do to free your soul. I could not in good conscience let you suffer such torment."

The man had stood up on shaky legs, the chain dangling from his chest clinking softly. He'd looked strangely accepting now, Hitsugaya's words and actions enough to assure him of the truth of the boy's otherworldly claim.

"You're Death, aren't you?" the spirit had asked softly. Hitsugaya had dipped his head once, then laughed a little bit.

"In some regard, I suppose you could say that," he'd replied easily. "I traveled the same path you now walk centuries ago."

That had made the spirit look a tad more interested, and his brown eyes had blinked in surprise.

"You're human?" he'd asked, eyebrows rising. Hitsugaya had smiled, the expression slightly less melancholy.

"Over two-hundred years ago, yes. Not so much now," he'd said with a slight smile. "The afterlife isn't a bad place. Rather like the Living World, only there isn't as much hunger, and people live longer."

The brown-eyed ghost had smiled and took a step towards Hitsugaya, looking peaceful. Then he'd sighed.

"You should know – I was once human too," he'd said quietly, looking vaguely horrified. Hitsugaya had lightly tapped him on the forehead with the hilt of his Zanpakutou, the blue seal of Konso appearing there. Slowly, the man had sunk into the pool of light on the ground, and then the butterfly, black and magenta, fluttered out and landed on his fingertip.

"I know," he'd whispered to the tiny insect. "And I will exact just punishment on those who meddle with human lives. Be at peace knowing that I will end this for you."

The tiny antennae twitched vaguely, and then the butterfly took off, winging its way into the ether. And Hitsugaya had Shunpoed away, rematerializing his sheath on Hyourinmaru's blade as he'd headed back to his dorm, sliding in through the open window less than a full thirty minutes after he'd left.

And then, only once he was back in his room and the full importance of what had just happened was staring him in the face, did he allow himself to get angry, hissing winter fury materializing in the air around him. He seized his Soul Phone, trying for the thousandth time to get a proper signal, then threw it across the room when it didn't work. Furious still, he ripped his notebook from his desk drawer and tore off the cap off an unsuspecting pen with his teeth, writing feverishly about the spiritual mutilation that he'd just witnessed.

It took nearly a full hour for him to calm somewhat, anger fading into distress and the weight of unlooked-for responsibility. He was a Captain of the Gotei 13 – a captain broken by trauma, perhaps, but a captain nonetheless – and this sort of abject horror was his responsibility to stop. He now had an objective beyond finding a way to return home, a serious objective that only a true shinigami would be able to carry out, because not every footsoldier could tolerate what was required.

He had to find the human responsible for meddling with the soul this way…and execute them. There would be no prisoners taken, no surrender acceptable. Even if this person came crawling forward on their hands and knees, begging forgiveness, the only penalty was death. This blood would be on his hands whether he wanted it there or not, whether or not they repented. Certain laws of Seireitei were absolute. And this was one of them – this special exception that allowed a shinigami to cut short a human life.

_The game has changed. And you, unknown human, have woken the sleeping dragon. Death is coming for you._

Hitsugaya slammed the notebook closed and leapt back out his window, climbing nimbly up the side of the building he'd been living for the past few weeks, and slid effortlessly on top of the roof. The stars were dull in the sky, light pollution snuffing out all but the brightest few, which hung around the moon like tiny points of glimmering Kido. He could feel himself grow calmer in the cooling air, the moonlight refreshing the cold, glacier-covered plains and tundra of his inner world. With all the grace of a leopard, Toushiro sat, leaning back against the AC unit on top of the building. Skygazing always relaxed him somewhat, Hyourinmaru's happy, thunderous purring shaking the icy wasteland of his inner world vigorously. And tonight was no different.

Sighing, he reached up with one hand as if grasping the moon, and the faint tickle of storm and thunder grazed against his palm. He sometimes forgot that Hyourinmaru's power lay over more than ice and snow, forgot until the sky called to him in all its wild glory.

_"_ _We will find the human, kill him, and return home,"_ Hyourinmaru said softly, and Hitsugaya flinched as both of his arms burst into silver-blue scales, claws forming on his fingertips and unfamiliar muscles pulling taut on his back. Hyourinmaru inspected the areas of affected reishi from the emerald windows of Hitsugaya's wide eyes. Then the dragon snorted with amusement.

_ " _ _You seem to have turned into a fish again."_

_"_ _Fish? These scales look more like your dragonscales to me, unless you're calling yourself a great scaly fish."_

_ " _ _ You insufferable, arrogant little hatchling. I don't know why I put up with your nonsense. Fish scales come apart like paper under even a kitten's claws, while dragon scales are harder than the strongest steel. And you dare call  _ me _a fish."_

_"_ _You started it."_

_ " _ _Well, that's because_ you _keep turning into a fishlike little wyrm. Barely a dragon, if you ask me."_

_"_ _Yes, a fishlike little wyrm which happens to have claws. And I didn't ask you."_

_ " _ _You'll be growing your baby fangs next, little wyrmling. Truly, I never thought I'd be able to watch a baby dragon grow his little teeth."_

_"_ _Hyourinmaru, don't give this weird disease any more ideas. And since when have I been a baby dragon, exactly?!"_

The dragon's humming laughter was pleasant in his heart, and he couldn't help smiling up at the moon despite how complex his situation had become. After a moment, the great ice drake shifted in his master's soul, still humming gently.

_"_ _You have always been my baby dragon, little one,"_ Hyourinmaru said after a long pause. _"But even more so after Cang Du parted us and left you alone to suffer. Much would have been different if I had not been stolen."_

Hitsugaya sighed, trying not to think about that separation any more than he had to.

_"_ _Much would have been different,"_ he agreed quietly, and looked down at his wrist where the medical cuff was dormant, the warning lights not blinking. _"Perhaps I would not…would not be so broken."_

Hyourinmaru only rumbled with melancholy assurance, trying to comfort his young shinigami. And then Hitsugaya stood up with a sigh.

_"_ _But…I cannot change the past. And I am here now, in a place where I could – just maybe – heal from the wounds I have suffered,"_ he said. _"I have a job to do here. And I must return home, and learn to either control or reverse this strange Quirk I seem to be developing."_

_"_ _You can be yourself here,"_ Hyourinmaru pointed out gently. _"You are not Hitsugaya-taicho."_

Toushiro nodded and started climbing back down the wall until he could slide back into his room. It was a freeing realization – the knowledge that all his behaviors in this world carried no expectations of perfection (except from himself) or promises of unparalleled power. Here, he didn't have excuses for his PTSD symptoms. But he didn't have to hide them either.

And to think – all it took was going back to school.

_God, Matsumoto would have a field day with this._

* * *

The week of internships ended much more quickly than Izuku would have liked, and before he knew it he was going back to classes at the U.A. It was at once a welcome change and utterly disappointing, though that may have been because he ended up in the hospital for a few days. Gran Torino had given him a smile and a last vehement scolding for running off before he'd left, which he'd probably deserved, but he had learned something very important about himself while he was there.

_He was not All Might_.

It was rather obvious once he thought about it, but at the time it had seemed groundbreaking. He hadn't realized how much his admiration of All Might had crippled him in his learning. Gran Torino had opened his eyes.

Well, mostly.

"A-aaaaah!"

_Thump. Whumpf. Thump. Crash._

"Deku-kun!"

"Midoriya-chan!"

Uraraka and Asu- Tsuyu-chan – ran down the stairs after him as he flailed his way down and helped him get to his feet. Tsuyu looked slightly amused, her cute froggy face fixed in a big arcing smile.

"You need to look where you're going, Midoriya-chan," she chided lightly, causing Uraraka to giggle a bit as well now that they knew he was fine. He blushed a bit in embarrassment, wishing he could blame the slip of his ankle on the top step on the injury he'd received, but Recovery Girl had made absolutely certain that it was gone. He'd just tripped over his own two feet while lost in thought.

"A-ahaha. Sorry, Asu- Tsuyu-chan," he squeaked. Tsuyu just blinked her large eyes at him, her froggy face a little pink around the edges. Her tongue poked out of her mouth when she smiled.

"At your own pace is fine, Midoriya-chan," she told him, and he laughed sheepishly. The trio walked to the classroom together, chattering on about their internships. Uraraka knew some martial arts moves now, much to Midoriya's surprise and Tsuyu had also seemed to have adventures on the rescue boat she'd gone to for her internship. They both asked him about the incident with the Hero Killer, as it had made the news that he, Iida, and Todoroki had been cornered by the fanatical serial killer, and he hesitantly told them the truth. They both stared in shock, and he'd quickly gone on to explain that the police had covered up the truth to protect them from punishment. Uraraka looked a bit put out by the entire occurrence, and Tsuyu frowned as they reached the door to the classroom.

"If you three hadn't intervened, Native would have been killed," she objected, tongue flicking idly. Izuku nodded quickly.

"Yes! Yes, that's why nobody pressed charges," he assured her quickly. "I mean, I don't like it either, and you should have seen Todoroki-kun yelling at the police chief. But they were really proud of what we did – they just couldn't release our part in it to the media without admitting that we broke the law."

Uraraka kept her round face fixed firmly in a disapproving pout.

"I still say it's nonsense," she agreed with Tsuyu decisively. "But what about the Nomus?"

Izuku swung the door open in response to her question, going quiet. His mind drifted back to the slain Nomu he'd seen, de-winged with its head sliced open. That kill had made the news as well, pro-heroes and police alike agreeing that the kill must have belonged to a new vigilante or a villain who didn't like competition. Either way, the perpetrator was a wanted man for the murder of the mutated, science-experiment human. And what made it worse was that he knew _exactly_ who had killed the Nomu.

By all rights, he should have reported Hitsugaya's involvement. He should have said something to Endeavor, to the police. But he kept thinking of that bracelet on Hitsugaya's wrist, the one that declared his unstable mind to the entire world, and knew that there had to be a logical explanation to the entire affair.

Right?

"Deku-kun?"

He jumped, startled, and whirled around to laugh sheepishly at Uraraka, anxiety clear in his voice no matter how hard he tried to hide it. Uraraka looked distinctly unimpressed by the display.

"Deku-kun, why are you so spacey today?" she asked curiously, leaning up into his face. "You nearly walked into my desk."

He gaped wordlessly, searching for words as he stared at her pretty brown eyes, the sprinkled freckles so light on the bridge of her nose. Why was she always so close to his _face_ – oh god he was turning red again-

"He's probably rather tired from the events that took place in Hosu, Uraraka-san," a familiar voice said, the precocious-sounding accent instantly recognizable. Izuku and Uraraka whirled around, smiles lighting up their faces.

"Iida-kun!" they chorused, and Uraraka jumped up and down once or twice. "You're here!"

The class representative smiled, pushing his glasses a bit further up his nose as he did so. There were still bandages wrapped around his arms, but he seemed fine other than that minor detail. He gestured at Uraraka and Izuku with a few of his characteristically robotic motions.

"My wounds were healed enough for me to be released from the hospital, and Recovery Girl said I was fine to return to my schooling as long as I did not place undue stress on my arms," he explained cheerfully. Then his expression turned a bit grim, and he looked straight at Izuku, his dark blue eyes flashing behind the prescription lenses. "…that Nomu is on the news."

Izuku's face fell and he looked at the ground. His fists tightened at his sides, uncertainty dawning on his freckled cheeks.

"I know," he replied. "Iida-kun, what do we _do_?"

The brainy teenager just looked at him helplessly, ignoring the way Uraraka and Tsuyu were staring at them. There was silence for a moment, and then Iida slowly started to speak.

"I think we need to tell someone," he hesitated. Izuku bit his lip, knowing the other boy was right but also feeling incredibly awful for even considering such a thing. Hitsugaya was a decent guy, from what he'd seen. He wasn't nice – barely talked, really – but he kept his head down for the most part and behaved himself. Held the door open for the rest of the class a few times, like he was trying to be nice without speaking – that kind of thing.

And then, as if the universe herself was punishing them for talking about Hitsugaya behind his back, the white-haired boy himself walked in. His appearance was clean and pressed, like usual, the soft fringe of his too-white hair falling into his left eye. He had his messenger bag and sword with him, as usual and he set the bag down on his desk with a thump to take his books out. The metal cuffs on the sword's hilt glinted in the fluorescent classroom lights.

The metal cuffs.

"…the cuffs on his sword are still locked," Izuku breathed, eyes wide. "But his sword was drawn when he was on the roof."

Iida blinked and glanced up to see for himself. Then he paled slightly, watching as Izuku's mind turned over, churning with theories. If it really was Hitsugaya on the roof that night, then that meant he'd found a way to get the sheath off his blade without breaking the cuffs – which he shouldn't be able to do without a strength Quirk anyway. But if he hadn't managed to break the cuffs, or find a way to get them off…then how could he have been the person on the roof? And if he hadn't been the person on the roof, then who had managed to copy his _exact appearance_?

Whatever the answer was, it was quickly becoming clear that there was a lot more to Hitsugaya than there seemed to be. Because if he'd managed to get the sheath off his blade without breaking the cuffs, then it meant he _had_ been the person on the roof, and almost certainly also the person who'd killed the Nomu. That, in turn, meant that he'd somehow known about the Nomus in Hosu and had used his weird, not-speed Quirk to get there, or had been in Hosu prior to the Nomu attack for reasons that _couldn't_ have been coincidental. But if he _hadn't_ been the person on the roof, then he was somehow connected to them – in a big way. Why else would someone have stolen his identity just to kill a Nomu?

_What was going on with Hitsugaya?_

* * *

**And uh oh, someone is starting to put the pieces together...And on top of that, Hitsugaya now has a job to do.**


	9. Crescendo

He was distracted all morning by Hitsugaya's calm presence in the back of the classroom, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling, all through English with Present Mic and into their biology class. He could tell that Iida was bothered by the white-haired teenager as well, his back unusually stiff as he was taking painfully slow notes with his injured arms. But Hitsugaya seemed perfectly at ease, scribbling in his notebook at a speed entirely out of sync with the notes the teacher was writing on the board.

For the first time, Izuku found himself really thinking about the white-haired boy, mulling over the little information that he and the rest of the class knew. Hitsugaya had been in class with them for just over three weeks, including the week of the internship, and during that time he'd only ever sat with them once at lunch – that first day when they'd all introduced themselves. Other than that, they'd barely seen him outside of the classroom. He lived on campus – that much Izuku knew for sure – and appeared to either stay in his room the whole time or work in the library as part of the work-study program. He knew that Hitsugaya had been diagnosed with severe PTSD from reading his medical-alert bracelet, and everyone had known about his brief encounter with Elasticity and the weird monster thing.

And then, Izuku saw it. His forest-green eyes widened in shock.

He could still remember what Principal Nedzu and Aizawa-sensei had said about Hitsugaya, with almost perfect clarity. But something didn't match up.

_"…We have jointly determined that he is not a threat to anyone's safety and is likely suffering from head trauma in conjunction with a difficult past, which would account for both his behavior and his lack of information about himself…"_

_"…beyond this, he does not appear to exist on any form of official documentation. However, since the police cannot justify keeping him behind bars, it has been decided that he will remain in a controlled environment where pro-heroes can keep an eye on him…"_

_"…we are trying to allow him a safe environment for his mind to recuperate enough to give us clues as to his origin…"_

Hitsugaya wasn't supposed to remember his past – or even exist according to the government records. Or at least, that's what he'd told the police, and apparently the head injury he'd received had explained enough of the information gaps that nobody had thought to pursue the matter further. But Hitsugaya himself had said something that had run almost completely counter to that statement.

_"I don't know what kind of golden dream world you live in, but I didn't grow up in such a precious, sheltered environment."_

If Hitsugaya really did suffer from amnesia, what on earth did that statement mean? It wasn't likely that the boy had lied when yelling at Todoroki – he'd been too worked up to be thinking about what he was saying. So if he could remember enough to know that he hadn't grown up the same way that the rest of them probably had, what exactly had he forgotten to make him too lost to go home? And there was still what he had said about the huge monster – the creature that the media was still speculating about even three weeks later.

_"I have the knowledge on how to kill those things. And I have the experience to actually do it. So yes. Killing 'one big monster' makes me qualified to give advice. Because I am never going to let any innocent people get hurt because of my weakness again."_

He'd practically admitted to knowing the monster was. Or, more accurately, to _remembering_ what the monster was, because he had said that he'd had experience actually killing them. He'd said he could remember seeing people bitten in half – Izuku stifled a shiver – and 'letting' innocent people die because he hadn't been able to defeat the weird monsters. While that was more than likely the cause of his PTSD, it still indicated that he had a lot of memories that were intact enough to scare him. So…if he could remember his childhood and the events that made him traumatized enough to wear a medical-alert bracelet, why hadn't the police figured out where he was from?

The only logical explanation Izuku could think of was that Hitsugaya was lying about how much he could remember. That he was faking amnesia in order to- to do something. And if he was lying to the pro-heroes…then it meant he must have sided with the villains. Which meant he'd probably known about the Nomus attacking Hosu. But if he really was on the villains' side, then why had he killed one of the Nomus? What was the point of that? Was he rather a vigilante of some kind, unable to stand by and watch while he had this amazingly powerful Quirk?

_"If you are born with power and do not use it to assist others, you are the worst kind of person."_

Hitsugaya's low, vehement tone echoed in his head. The sheer intensity of the teenager's conviction when he had said those words was still fresh in Izuku's memory, still utterly clear. There was no way someone so passionate about this belief could ever turn to crime. Crime had no benefactor except the perpetrator. But vigilantism – that could arguably be what Hitsugaya had turned to in search of some way to help the people he saw suffering. And above all, it would explain why he was so reclusive, and why he had been diagnosed with PTSD in the first place.

Izuku wasn't sure whether to be impressed or worried. If his theory was right, then Hitsugaya could be thrown in prison regardless of his age. Vigilantism and lying to the police weren't crimes taken lightly, especially in the age of licensed hero-work. Or, even worse, he could be imprisoned in a mental institution considering his psychiatric issues and _then_ shuttled over to a proper prison once he was well enough to be released. But, like Iida-kun had said, they needed to tell someone about Hitsugaya – or the person wearing his face – killing the Nomu.

The biology teacher interrupted his thoughts with a loud clap of his hands and a smile, pulling a screen down over the blackboard behind him and lowering the projector from the ceiling. The dark-haired man was speaking – as he had been the whole class period – on interspecies relationships in the environment. Earlier, he'd been talking mostly about symbiotic relationships. Now, it seemed he'd moved on to parasitic relationships, where the parasite leeched off its host to create a more suitable environment for themselves.

"…so to better explain this, I've pulled up a video about a particular kind of parasitic relationship I think you all will find both cool and a little bit creepy," he said, pressing the play button on his laptop. Almost immediately, the black screen cut to a picture of a cockroach and jewel-like green wasp. Izuku stared, watching as the two insects interacted with some interest. A narrator began to speak, talking over the slight clicking noises of the insects.

_"…ready to reproduce, the female jewel wasp must find a cockroach and turn it into a zombie by injecting a special venom into its brain…"_

Izuku recoiled as the narrator explained that the wasp venom made the cockroach docile and easy to manipulate for the wasp, who would herd it into a burrow, lay an egg on it, and barricade it in. And because of the zombification venom, the cockroach would just sit there placidly while the wasp larva hatched and slowly ate its way through its zombified host. It was a mildly horrifying example of a parasitic relationship. Who knew zombies could be real?

_CRASH._

The entire class nearly jumped out of their seats at the loud bang, then turned around to Hitsugaya lying on the ground, his desk and chair overturned, his skin white with terror as he clawed at the tile beneath him, whimpering helplessly. His emerald eyes glittered with standing tears, the pupils dilated to tiny pinpricks of black in a sea of cold turquoise-green.

Pandemonium erupted for a brief moment, the teacher panicking upon seeing the new student seizing on the ground. But then Class 1-A was moving, picking up desks and shifting them aside so that Hitsugaya had room to thrash and struggle, and Todoroki moved in close, frost glinting on his right palm. Gently, he laid his cold hand on Hitsugaya's forehead, but the white-haired teen didn't make any visible acknowledgement of Todoroki's presence, staring through his classmate's concerned face as he convulsed on the ground.

"Hitsugaya-kun! Hitsugaya-kun, are you alright?" the half-and-half boy asked urgently, but Hitsugaya didn't respond, staring vacantly up at the lights above his head. Then the mysterious teenager convulsed again, and Todoroki spun to look at Iida, sliding a hand beneath Hitsugaya's torso and carefully pulling him more upright, so that he was kneeling, halfway collapsed in Todoroki's arms.

"Get the trash can!" the dual-element wielder called, and the class representative sped over to pick up the trash can, returning just in time for Kouda to slide the wastebasket under Hitsugaya's limp head. Almost on cue, the unresponsive teenager convulsed again, and this time he followed through with the motion, puking violently into the trash can. Without thinking, Izuku knelt on Hitsugaya's other side and smoothed the long white fringe out of the glassy green stare, rubbing the boy's back in small circles. He already knew what was happening, and as he'd expected, it wasn't pretty.

"Hitsugaya-kun, what's wrong?" Todoroki asked again, talking over his classmates who were all asking variants of the same question. Izuku looked up and took a deep breath.

"Everyone, stop talking," he said, hands shaking a little bit. "He can't hear us right now. I think someone should get Recovery Girl."

Almost immediately, the biology teacher volunteered, and he took off out the door like someone had a lit a fire under his butt. The class watched him go with a hint of incredulity, and then Bakugo snorted derisively.

"Fuckin' pansy. Can't even handle Snowy puking his guts up," the explosive teen said with a scowl. Then the blonde boy rounded on Todoroki and Izuku, red eyes both hostile and careful, the guarded anger strangely like worry. "Deku, what the fuck is wrong with Snowy?"

Bakugo gestured violently at the unresponsive teenager lying in Todoroki's arms, yellow-green bile trickling from his mouth, Izuku carefully holding his lolling head over the trash can. Izuku bit his lower lip, still gently rubbing Hitsugaya's back, a pang of guilt rolling through him at what he was about to do.

"…he has PTSD," Izuku finally said, lowering his head a bit. "I saw it on his medical-alert band. He's probably having a flashback of some kind."

The class was quiet at that, allowing the two boys carefully handling their unresponsive classmate to speak to him in soft undertones, trying to coax him back into reality. Hitsugaya vomited again during that period, puking bile into the trash can, and finally stopped thrashing around. He started to curl in on himself instead, drawing his knees up to his chest, still staring straight ahead with those terrifyingly empty eyes.

Izuku blinked.

Were Hitsugaya's pupils always thin, slitted lines of black?

And then he blinked again and the illusion was gone. He resumed rubbing his mysterious classmate's back gently, frowning at the terribly hard knots he was finding in the muscle right over Hitsugaya's shoulder blades. The knots were so bad his back almost felt lumpy. And then Aizawa burst through the door, his scraggly hair even more frazzled than usual. Recovery Girl was right behind him, watching from the door as he skidded onto his knees where Todoroki and Midoriya huddled on either side of Hitsugaya's crumpled form.

"Both of you back up. Tell me what happened," he commanded, easily taking Hitsugaya's curled form out of Todoroki's arms and lifting him. Aizawa's glance shot to the bile on the unresponsive teenager's lips. "Did he throw up?"

Todoroki nodded anxiously, looking worried.

"Twice, and he was convulsing for a while as well," Shouto said seriously. "…we were watching a video on how jewel wasps zombify cockroaches – parasitic relationships."

Recovery Girl stepped forward, her mouth pressed into a thin line.

"Aizawa, take Hitsugaya-kun to the infirmary. He's going to need a quiet place to calm down," she ordered sternly. Then she looked at the class with some approval. "You lot get back to your studies. You handled the situation rather well, all things considered. And you shouldn't worry. Hitsugaya-kun will likely be back before lunch, and he's in no real danger."

There was a collective breath of relief at the announcement, and then Izuku remembered the Nomu back in Hosu, and he stepped forward uncertainly.

"Actually…Aizawa-sensei, can I talk to you?" he asked slowly. The pro-hero gave him a strange look, then glanced at Recovery Girl, who shrugged and gave silent permission for the green-haired boy to tag along. Iida nodded shallowly at him as he trotted out of the room after Aizawa and the unresponsive Hitsugaya, and Izuku nodded back. But he didn't get to speak until after Hitsugaya had come out of the terrified stupor.

It was saddening, watching as Aizawa and Recovery Girl carefully coaxed the teenager out of his head, and it took far longer than he would have expected. A full ten minutes had passed before Hitsugaya began to show any signs at all of regaining awareness of where he was, and when he started to regain his mental faculties it was a heartbreaking spectacle. The first thing that crossed his face was sheer horror, followed almost immediately anger and then bone-shattering guilt, finished by a numb ennui that Izuku knew must be gut wrenching. The tears were the worst part. He could just barely see Hitsugaya crying into Aizawa's shoulder, limp in the teacher's embrace, anger and guilt and lingering terror still mixed perfectly in his expression. But he could hear every hiccup, every whimper of abject misery coming from the boy he'd only ever known as politely standoffish and apathetic.

And then it stopped making sense, the conclusion he'd come to about Hitsugaya being some kind of vigilante. If the boy was this fragmented, and had flashbacks so horrifying they rendered him nearly catatonic, how on earth could he have brought himself to kill a creature which had been human?

_The same way he killed the first monster_ a little voice at the back of his mind whispered carefully. _Because he wanted to protect someone._

Hitsugaya was given some kind of sleeping medication, which he took without an iota of hesitation, and was allowed to fall asleep in an infirmary bed, tear tracks drying on his face. And then Aizawa came over to Izuku, looking melancholy, his expression grave.

"…What did you want to talk to me about, Midoriya-kun?" he asked tiredly. Izuku took a deep breath.

"…I need to tell you something…"

* * *

All Might was, to say the least, very concerned when he saw Hitsugaya Toushiro arrive in the middle of his explanation to Class 1-A what Field Gamma was. He knew from lunch in the staff office that the boy had finally collapsed in class, a nature documentary about parasitic relationships apparently triggering what was his most violent episode to date. He was escorted by Recovery Girl, his eyes fixed firmly on the grass crunching under his grey high-top sneakers, his face shaded by the long white fringe of his hair. He'd already changed into the UA gym uniform, as he still lacked a hero costume like the rest of his classmates, and was clearly being allowed to participate in the exercise by Recovery Girl.

But the deadness in his expression was worrying. His golden face had hardened into granite with stony rage, and it was obvious he was twitching in an effort to suppress some reaction.

He took a brief pause, smiling broadly at his kids – the students of course – and turned to the petite old woman in charge of every injured student the school saw. He didn't make any attempt to hide the concern on his smiling face. Hitsugaya Toushiro was quite obviously a very troubled child, and if what the lovely school librarian said about his absolute avoidance of his peers was true, then he needed to know that there were indeed adults who cared about him. He needed to understand that he would be protected and sheltered, kept safe from the horrors that must be in his past. And so All Might, after talking to Recovery Girl for just a moment, turned to Hitsugaya with a kind grin.

"Ah, Hitsugaya-kun, it's wonderful to see that you're feeling better," the muscled hero proclaimed in a respectful undertone. "However, it would be perfectly alright with me if you would prefer to watch this particular exercise for today. And don't be afraid to speak up! I understand that you might be a little tired after-"

"I'm fine."

The cool voice cut All Might off in midsentence, a dangerous edge in the tone that made the hair on the back of Toshinori's thick neck stand up. Hitsugaya looked up then, and the sheer coldness tainted by blackened wrath echoing in the yawning emerald pits of his eyes took Toshinori's breath away. He had rarely seen emotion this raw and dark in any person, save one. All-For-One.

This did not bode well.

But Toshinori put aside his misgivings for the moment. Because aside from the churning mass of anger and indifference and cruelty boiling inside this boy, there was also a heartbreaking sense of directionless vulnerability. It was evident in every paranoid twitch, in every terrified flinch when Recovery Girl drifted a little bit too close. He was dark and hurting, that much was true. But with a little guidance, perhaps he would come back.

"…Ah, right you are," All Might agreed with a soft nod. "But just know that it's perfectly fine with me if you decide to sit and watch."

Hitsugaya appeared to get the message, the yawning darkness in his gemstone glance fading into mere shadow, and he nodded a quick thank you before striding off to the edge of the group. Recovery Girl gave him a significant look, a sure sign she had something important to tell him later, then turned and left. The rest of the lesson proceeded smoothly, the concept of the exercise quickly grasped by every one of his students, and he then proceeded to divide them into four groups, placing Hitsugaya in the last group with Bakugo Katsuki, Kaminari Denki, Yaoyorozu Momo, Mineta Minoru, and Koji Kouda.

The first group were all allowed to proceed to their starting places after he'd hidden himself in the maze of Training Field Gamma, and he watched their progress on the screen projected from his wristwatch. Midoriya's performance was particularly encouraging, as it appeared that he'd learned to fully control the power of One-For-All while under Gran Torino's tutelage. It seemed that his body could still only handle a very little bit, but it was enough to make his moves superhumanly fast and strong. He had to chuckle when the boy slipped on a narrow pipe, however, remember his own fumbling when he'd first figured out how to use One-For-All's power. Sero Hanta also performed very well, his abilities in the air giving him a considerable advantage over the other four in his group.

There were outstanding performers in the next two groups as well, Asui Tsuyu taking full advantage of her ability to jump long distances and climb vertical surfaces, and Todoroki Shouto creating rudimentary bridges out of ice. But by the time that the final group rolled around, it was clear to him that Hitsugaya was fully intending to participate. That determination worried him the slightest bit – surely the boy was pushing himself – but he let it happen anyway. The six split up to their respective starting points, Bakugo predictably snarling at the others before arriving at his designated place. And then, once he was sure that they were all comfortably situated, he blew the distress signal, watching the screens with a hint of curiosity.

And just like at the U.A. Sports Festival, Hitsugaya disappeared in split-second blur of color. He blinked with a hint of surprise, then whirled around in shock when a cool touch came on his shoulder.

"I told you I was fine."

Perched on the railing behind him was Hitsugaya, his white hair ruffled, his expression calm. The tension was still stretching the skin of his corded neck, pulling taut on something – obviously using his Quirk hadn't tired the stress out of him. Stricken, All Might couldn't help but stare for a second before processing exactly what the boy was saying.

"…Shadow sparring?" he repeated after a moment. "No, no, of course you may do such a thing as long as you are careful of your surroundings. But concerning your Quirk – were you able to properly use it just now?"

Hitsugaya nodded, sliding off the railing into a practiced stance. A sigh escaped him.

"Yes. I was completely in control," he said, a note of finality in his voice. All Might held his breath for a moment, trying not to let any of his incredulity slip, and managed a winning smile.

"Ah, that's wonderful to hear, young man," he said, then lost his breath again as Hitsugaya began to glide through a series of practiced movements ending either with high kicks or smashing, open-palm strikes similar to punches. The boy's technique was unmistakably that of a master, and not for the first time All Might was reminded just how dangerous this child could be.

He was so completely engrossed by the flawless sparring movements that it took the noisy explosions of Bakugo's arrival to break him from the trance. The muscular blonde man turned around quickly, spotting the cantankerous teenager propelling himself up and over a ridge of steely generators, and quickly gave him a bright smile and the congratulatory message he'd given everyone else. But Bakugo wasn't having any of it, and he stomped forward with a growl and shoved Hitsugaya off balance just as the white-haired teenager was practically doing the splits with a high roundhouse kick.

All Might's admonition was lost in a breath of shock as Hitsugaya used the momentum of losing his balance to bend backwards, plant a palm on the ground and deliver a sharp uppercut to Bakugo's chin with the top of his foot, then flip twice before landing nimbly on his feet on the thin railing he'd previously been standing on. And then the Symbol of Peace forced himself to think and move, stepping in to chide both boys for their misbehavior. Bakugo was aggressive as usual, but he wasn't the type to directly defy authority and All Might knew his gruff exterior hid a healthy respect for his teachers. He backed off from the white-haired boy almost immediately, rubbing at his bruised chin with a sour glare. But Hitsugaya's emerald glare was burning, smoldering with anger and a burst of terror that belied the initial panic he must have felt upon being pushed, and he nearly went after Bakugo before he seemed to catch himself.

The other four students arrived shortly after the incident, and then All Might herded all his kids together to talk to them about their performances during the exercise. After he'd finished talking, he'd invited them to analyze their own abilities, and Midoriya, as had become standard, hesitantly gave a few of the students advice about how they could have used their Quirks during the exercise. Iida also had a few ideas, as did Yaoyorozu, and they talked everything over before he dismissed class for the day.

Once the students were out of sight, All Might returned to the school building and changed out of his costume so he didn't have to keep using One-For-All. Then he checked his phone and saw that the staff meeting about their newest addition to the hero course had been pushed forward to that afternoon on Aizawa's request. He checked his watch, knowing that what he'd seen today would be important for the discussion.

He had to be there in five minutes.

"Oh My Goodness!"

* * *

**So, Class 1-A gets their first encounter with how f-ed up our poor shinigami taicho is. Thoughts? Spoilers are still possible rewards for helpful reviews! :)**


	10. Unmasked (With and Without a Zanpakutou)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooh, here it goes! I'm hype :D Gonna get the pros POV here. :)

Aizawa and agitated were not two words often found in the same sentence, but there was no other way to describe the man when All Might hurried into the staff room, considerably confused by the timing of the meeting. The students still had their last homeroom period of the day, and yet all of the Pro-heroes at the school seemed to have abandoned their classes in favor of attending. When he asked, he found that they _all_ had apparently called for substitutes at the last minute, even pulling the librarian away from her usual job to monitor Class 1-B. It was a move that had All Might's stomach in knots. If all the pro-heroes were behaving like this, perfectly okay with abandoning their classes, it meant that someone had discovered something about Hitsugaya Toushiro. Something big.

He took a seat next to Present Mic and nodded genially at Nedzu, a hint of confusion on his face as he looked around the room. The general atmosphere was grim, and Aizawa in particular was disturbed, his head cradled in his hands.

"…What did I miss?" he asked then, knowing that he needed to hear the answer even if he'd prefer to remain ignorant. Nedzu pressed his paws together.

"We may have been played for fools, taking what Hitsugaya-kun said at face value," the white mouse said gravely. "I expected that he was hiding something, but I had hope that the child would turn out to be simply that, a lost boy. Now it seems we must be a little harsher on him."

All Might felt his heart sink into what was left of his stomach, and he took a shallow breath in an effort to hold back his grief at the thought of such a young boy lost to the shadow of evil. Aizawa lifted his head then, revealing the emotions warring on his face.

"Midoriya was the one who brought it to my attention," he said quietly. "Apparently Hitsugaya said some things to his classmates that don't line up with his story, namely the portion where he cannot recall his past. According to Midoriya, Hitsugaya has admitted to having knowledge concerning the monster at the Sports Festival, and has also snapped at a classmate for having a sheltered lifestyle compared to his own past. And…and there's something even more incriminating."

This other something seemed to be a new piece of information, and the other pro-heroes leaned forward in transfixed horror and curiosity. Aizawa took a deep breath.

"Midoriya saw Hitsugaya in Hosu the night of the Hero Killer's arrest and the Nomu attack. He says that they had just passed the mysteriously slain Nomu when he looked up and saw Hitsugaya standing on top of the office building on the other side of the street, holding a butterfly of some kind," Aizawa revealed, but there was a strange catch in his voice. "However – and this is mostly Midoriya's theory, mind you, but it makes a lot of sense – Midoriya said that Hitsugaya's blade was unsheathed, but in class today the cuff locking his sword into the sheath was still in place and showed no sign of tampering. This indicates one of two things; either Hitsugaya has found a way to remove and replace the cuff without breaking it, or that the person Midoriya saw last week wasn't Hitsugaya, but a doppelganger of some kind."

Midnight's eyes widened at that last sentence.

"But if it wasn't Hitsugaya, that means that…" her voice trailed off, and Nedzu finished the statement for her, looking grim.

"Then it means that someone knows that Hitsugaya-kun's power would be a perfect cover for killing the Nomu, had the means to impersonate him, and likely knew him at some point before this dubious memory loss," the mouse explained quietly. "Did Midoriya tell you anything else? That boy has a keen eye for analysis."

Aizawa shook his head.

"Only theories," the teacher said, his voice muffled by his hands, which he'd again dropped his head into. "He thinks that if Hitsugaya was in Hosu that night, then he's most likely a vigilante rather than a villain. Apparently Hitsugaya was very passionate, and more than a little vicious, when he'd been speaking to his classmates during the conversation where his mention of having some memories slipped out, and said something along the lines of 'those with power must use it to help others, otherwise they're selfish for not acting when they could prevent others from suffering'. It made quite the impression – apparently he rendered Bakugo speechless during that little encounter."

That elicited a weak chuckle from the adults familiar with Bakugo's temperament, and then All Might sighed.

"I have to agree with young Midoriya here – Hitsugaya probably is responsible for the Nomu's death, if only looking from a technical standpoint," he said heavily. "Hitsugaya-kun's performance today during the exercise was beyond excellent, and his control over his Quirk is precise enough to allow him to travel over a hundred meters and land on a narrow railing in the blink of an eye. In addition, he's somehow an incredibly accomplished martial artist. He asked for permission to shadow spar, and I…I have never seen a fifteen-year-old boy move that gracefully. He even managed to turn being knocked off balance to his advantage."

There was a short silence and then All Might took a deep, steadying breath and said the words weighing so heavily on his mind.

"With his Quirk and martial arts skill…I don't honestly know if even I could truly contain him," the blonde man said worriedly. "His Quirk would make him a challenge to hit even with the air pressure of a punch considering he can simply use his Quirk to both get out of range and return faster than I can move, and his martial arts skill may even be able to do some damage, especially when combined with the momentum of his Quirk. Relieved of his blade, I believe I may have an easier time, as he could not build a significant amount of momentum for attack purposes without risking injury from accumulated resistance from the material, but separating him from that blade would be difficult."

That brought a chill to the room, and Nedzu nodded heavily again, pressing his chin into his paw.

"I suspected as much." The mouse sighed. "That's a battle of speed versus strength, and while you'd win if you landed a blow, the chances of that happening are small if he's a skilled fighter. However, there are a few things you are all overlooking. One, aside from Midoriya's word, we have no proof that Hitsugaya was ever in Hosu. Two, even if we had proof that he was in Hosu, unless we can conclusively prove that he can unsheathe his blade without the key, which I keep on my keyring, then we can't definitively identify him as the Nomu's killer. Three, this boy is suffering from severe PTSD, and as such may behave somewhat erratically. It's likely that he may remember something of his past but be too terrified of it to say something to us, and it may have been this which he mentioned to his classmates in a moment of anger or terror. And four, he leapt between two of our students and a monster we have never seen before of his own accord even though he was on the run for unknown reasons."

Nedzu looked around the room seriously, sipping at a cup of tea. The bell rang then, signaling the end of classes for the day, but the teachers ignored it, and Nedzu continued.

"It is obvious to everyone here that Hitsugaya-kun has lied, both to us and to the police, but as of now we have no proof that he was breaking the law through either villainy or vigilantism. We have been played, yes. That much is clear. We are now aware that he knows what the monster that attacked during the Sports Festival is, and that this information has been kept from us looks distinctively shady. But we must remember that we are dealing with a child scarred by trauma, who is likely not thinking his decisions through as well as he could. I think it would be best to give him the benefit of the doubt." The mouse's gaze swept the table, unsurprised to see the nods of agreement from the genial Present Mic and All Might.

But to everyone's surprise, Aizawa stood up then, his trademark tired expression replaced by a grim determination.

"I would like to be one to confront him about this," he said firmly. "…I believe that Hitsugaya-kun trusts me to some extent."

Nedzu raised a mousy eyebrow but nodded, and Midnight tapped her chin thoughtfully.

"What makes you think that, Eraserhead?" she asked, "Usually All Might is the one that inspires trust with the kids."

Aizawa glared at her for a second, then went quiet for a moment, his expression sad.

"His medical-alert bracelet alerts my cell phone," he said finally. "And I received a call two weeks ago that he was having a flashback, before the kids went on their internships, so I went up to his dorm room and found him on the floor. Once he calmed down he tried to throw me off, and the little brat must have screamed himself hoarse calling me nasty names, but…I think he was still in denial of his mental state up until that point. My arrival, what I said to him then – it must have broken down some wall he had, made him realize that I wasn't upset because I already knew what was going on inside his head."

Aizawa looked Nedzu straight in the eye, glaring fiercely.

"And I _didn't_ _see him cry_ ," the man said slowly, emphasizing each word with a meaningful punch on the last syllable. "You understand what I'm trying to say, I assume."

Nedzu's nose twitched, his whiskers jittering a bit, and he smiled at the dark-haired man with a bit of bitter understanding. They all knew that no matter who fronted the conversation, confronting Hitsugaya would be highly unpleasant.

"Of course. You can be the one to talk to him, though I would like for Midnight, All Might, and I to be close by," Nedzu agreed. "Now…shall we go find the young man in question?"

And then they heard the earsplitting howl of an unearthly predator echoing from outside, the mad cackle of a villain's cruel laughter horribly loud ripping through the atmosphere, and the terrified screams of students. Thoughts of Hitsugaya vanished and after a split-second pause, the pro-hero teachers of U.A. scattered out various exits. All Might, now swollen with One-For-All, leapt out of an open window, while Present Mic, and Midnight ran for the stairs, Nedzu and a few other hot on their tail. Aizawa followed All Might out the window, using the bandages wrapped around his shoulders to support him on his descent to the ground.

The villains – no, the _monsters_ – had appeared near the front entrance of the school, where all the students were trying to exit to go home, and as the pros appeared on scene it became clear that the monsters were targeting the children, their cackling laughter and screeching howls only serving to terrify the students into panic. Many of the students were already sprinting for the safety of the school, Present Mic's deafening voice already commanding them inside. But All Might knew he couldn't afford to waste any time – he only had twenty minutes left at best, and the monsters were still targeting the stragglers. He leapt forward, leg muscles surging, One-For-All humming with the combined superhuman strength of eight people all buoyed by its power.

"TEXAS SMASH!"

His fist collided with the white bone of one of the creatures' masks, and it howled in ear-bleeding rage as it was thrown several yards away onto its spiked back. But that was it. There was no further damage, no cowering or writhing. One-For-All had only mildly injured it, and only thrown it about twenty meters away in total. It got back to its feet, spitting mad, a slight crack in the white plate of carved bone covering its face. All Might felt a shiver of fear crackle into his expression, turning the smile into a grimace of determination. But the Symbol of Peace didn't leave innocent children to suffer, and neither did Toshinori Yagi.

And the Pro-heroes fought for all of five minutes, dodging as best as they could, only able to launch mild counteroffensives that seemed to do little damage. Even Snipe's bullets seemed to be doing nothing. All Might was the only one able to contend with the monsters on any sort of equal footing, his blows obviously injuring the creatures through repeated blunt-force trauma. But they were being pushed back, and these four monsters were substantially smaller than the one which had appeared at the Sports Festival. All Might didn't even want to think about the damage that would happen if another one of those appeared.

And then the sky split again, warping strangely to look like a gaping mouth slowly opening to swallow up the blue of the cloudless sky. The strange monsters all froze momentarily, turning their masks toward it as if waiting for something, yet they shivered in fear when the being inside the portal stepped out. It was a man, probably in his early twenties, with a short brown ponytail and dark, cold eyes. A fragment of what looked to be the same type of bony mask as the monsters' masks clung to his upper jaw, sharp teeth etched in relief into the bone, the fragment covering the entire left side of his face beneath his eye. And just where his heart would be, an empty hole gaped through his chest. The man grinned a crazed grin, leering down at the pros below him as he floated effortlessly in the air. The pros stared, flabbergasted by how he appeared to be standing on the air. What kind of Quirk could allow for that?

And then the man spoke, and they felt their hearts stop.

"Stupid Hollows," he said with a scoff, falling lightly to the earth and landing on his feet, the billowing white hakama on his legs ruffling noisily in the wind. "Can't even kill a bunch of stupid humans without fucking up."

_…_ _Stupid humans?_

But then then Hollows – was that actually what these monsters were called? – resumed their attacks, and the pros again leapt back into action. The man-with-no-heart watched, apparently bored with the display, and absently dragged one of the…the _Hollows_ off of the clustered pros to reveal a ragged Present Mic, gasping for breath and sporting several bloody gashes. He tried to speak, but only started coughing instead, his Quirk obviously spent.

And then the weird Hollow-like man sucked in a huge breath, and the Hollow _screamed_ as it dissolved into bloody particles and was swallowed. The pros gaped in horror, Midnight supporting the dazed Present Mic as best as she could even though she was bleeding from a head wound, gazing through the space where the Hollow's body had been before it had been eaten.

_Eaten alive._

The weird man smirked again, then reached for the hilt of the short wakizashi blade strapped to his waist.

"Ah, that was refreshingly disgusting," he proclaimed with a wicked laugh, then turned a hungry gaze on the pros and the school behind them. "But I think it's time for dessert. Humans do always taste the sweetest, even if they're weaklings…"

All Might felt sickening revulsion wash over him, his destroyed stomach lurching painfully in his abdomen. Someone retched behind him, the thought of this humanoid villain _eating the students_ almost too much to bear. He readied his fists, reaching back through the years of his predecessors' power to grasp at the true strength of One-For-All.

And then he stopped. A flash of black and white had filled his vision, the character 'Ten' emblazoned on the back of a traditionally styled coat called a haori, and a mop of silver-tinged white hair tickled at his shoulder. A golden hand rested lightly on top of his fist, the unspoken 'step down' painfully obvious. Hitsugaya stood between All Might and the Hollows, facing the man in the half-mask with a worryingly emotionless expression. He was wearing unusually traditional clothes – the garments he'd been wearing when he'd been captured by the police – including billowing black hakama and a black kosode. Without saying anything, Hitsugaya took a single step forward. The Hollows – still not sure if that's what they were actually called – all instantly disengaged from the pros, leaping towards the young teenager as a group, howling in animalistic greed.

All Might didn't really know when he moved, only that when he lunged forward to grab the young man by the waist and haul him out of the way, the nearest Hollow's claws dug into his bicep. He gritted his teeth and pulled, throwing the white-haired boy out of the way and behind him, then fell, the Hollows piling on top of him with gleeful screeches. The screams of his colleagues were drowned out by their clamor.

And then, before their jaws could close and the Symbol of Peace could forever be lost, there was a brief flicker of white, and all three of the Hollows instantly split down the middle lengthwise. There was silence for a moment, then a series of loud thuds as the half-carcasses hit the ground. Hitsugaya landed lightly on his feet just beyond the pile of Hollow bodies, still standing silently. The silver steel of his blade – unsheathed – glinted in his hand, and as it did so, the Hollow carcasses began to dissolve into tiny particles of black dust.

The strange not-human man-with-a-half-mask clapped his hands in a slow, drawling clap, but when Hitsugaya took another step forward, the half-masked man backed away slowly. Slowly, the pros began to realize the wavering amusement on the brunette villain's face was masking fear. Fear of the fifteen-year-old boy standing between them and this last enemy.

"…Your Garganta is still open," Hitsugaya finally spoke, and when he did his tone was icy cold, devoid of any life or warmth. A chill crept down All Might's spine when the strange Hollow man looked up nervously at the gaping crack in the sky, then back at the white-haired teenager in the old-fashioned clothing. Hitsugaya had called the crack in the sky a Gra- Garganta. Here was conclusive proof that he knew what these monsters were, and had been keeping it from them. All Might felt sorry for Aizawa, who had thought he had made such a breakthrough.

It seemed Hitsugaya wasn't quite a hero after all. Though…perhaps he wasn't a villain either.

"…You should leave," Hitsugaya continued in that same chilling tone, the one that promised death. The air started to feel a little bit thick and heavy, abnormally cold for this time of year. The Hollow-like man was pale as a ghost and shaking now.

"Y-you're…" he stammered. "B-but this…this is a new world- you…you aren't supposed to-"

"Do not presume to tell me where I should and should not be, scum," Hitsugaya's words were frigid, and as the pros watched in stricken silence, he began to glow faintly. What kind of Quirk did this boy have? It clearly wasn't a mere speed Quirk at this point.

The Hollow-like man stiffened, then gritted his teeth and drew his blade. Almost instantly Hitsugaya had both hands on the hilt of the long, sharp sword, holding effortlessly out in front of him, the easy movements beyond graceful. His emerald gaze was bright with warning.

"If you attack me or any here, you will die," the teenager's low threat carried through the courtyard, startling the pros out of their stunned stupor. Aizawa sprinted forward, yelling for Hitsugaya to drop the weapon and retreat to the safety of the school. And then Hitsugaya glanced back over his shoulder, a strange kind of patient wisdom in his eyes much different from the harsh coldness of the moment prior.

"If you have power and choose not to use it to help others, you are filth," he said firmly, glaring pointedly at his homeroom teacher. Then he shook his head. "I know how to fight these creatures. You do not. Stand down."

The Hollow-like man moved while Hitsugaya's back was turned, and Midnight yelled a desperate warning despite the blood trickling from the side of her skull. Hitsugaya rolled his eyes – he _rolled his eyes_ , like the fact that an unstable human-eating maniac was about to decapitate him was _boring_ – and with an expert flip of his blade he blocked the attack. A spray of orange sparks skittered on the ground, the screech of two steel blades grinding together deafening. And then Hitsugaya kicked out and back, flipping midair to avoid another swing so fast the metal blurred, and the Hollow-like man stumbled backward several feet.

And then Hitsugaya was gone again, his body disappearing in the blink of an eye at the same time as his opponent. Orange sparks flew through the air, the two briefly reappearing just long enough for the flashing crescents of steel blades to glint around their blurring heads, but for the most part only the sounds of the battle taking place seemed to exist. All Might turned his head every which way trying to catch sight of the two combatants hacking away at each other, but they only appeared at random. It was terrifying, the speed at which these two fought, and for the first time the niggling idea that Hitsugaya might not be fully human crossed his mind. The other man had admitted to it – going as far as to call humans stupid and weak – and had been able to float on air as well as this speed Quirk. But there was only one source allowing a single person having multiple Quirks. All-For-One.

If All-For-One was involved with Hitsugaya – had created him, even – then it would explain everything. The PTSD, the mysterious death of the Nomu, the reluctance to confide in his elders…all the pieces could slide perfectly into place.

A sickening scream tore him from his thoughts, and he looked up with fear on his face, worrying for Hitsugaya's safety. Red splattered the air, blood spraying violently from a diagonal slash across the chest, a fatal wound if he'd ever seen one. The corpse plummeted slowly to the ground, crumpling in the dirt and convulsing once before going utterly still. Hitsugaya landed lightly on his feet beside the fallen body of the man he'd slain, a terrible blankness behind those eyes. The other man's shower of blood had sprayed a few crimson droplets onto his face, sword still dripping scarlet. And then something surprising happened.

Kneeling down beside the fallen corpse, Hitsugaya reached out, holding his palm open over the dead body for a moment before bowing his head once and rising again. And the man's body began to dissolve into the black dust as well, the strange particulate matter fading into the atmosphere. Hitsugaya Toushiro watched it go, like he was holding vigil for a fallen friend. Only once all the particles were gone did he flick his blade, the blood on it also evaporating into black dust. The crack in the sky closed when the last particle faded away.

The pro-heroes watched in silence as he turned, casting a critical eye over them. Then he stabbed his blade into the ground, leaving it standing upright, and raised one hand.

"If any of you were injured by one of the monsters – the humanoid included – _directly_ , please come see me," he said, and All Might had to hold his breath at the sheer calmness in the boy's voice. He'd just killed a man. He'd just murdered someone in cold blood, and was this calm about it. "Any injuries caused by them – not by flying debris or the like – leave a damaging type of residue I need to remove."

After a hesitant, long moment, All Might took a deep breath and approached. He still had eight more minutes in this form. So as Hitsugaya went to touch him, he reached out and took the boy's wrist in one massive hand, gripping the teenager firmly. He bent down slightly to look Hitsugaya in the face.

"…You can remove this 'residue' you speak of if you wish," he said, his voice stern and more than a little bit wary. "But you're going to have to come with us first, young man."

A flicker of indecision passed instantaneously across the teenager's face, his brows knitting together. Concentrated emotion took its place a moment after, mixed worry and determination melding into a masklike veneer of strength. He cocked his snowy white head to the side.

"…why?" he asked then, emerald eyes narrowing. "I saved your city, by all rights."

All Might took a deep breath.

"You killed a man, or something that looks like one," he said slowly. "And we have reason to believe this isn't your first kill either."

Hitsugaya's expression turned frosty, but he made no move to twist out of All Might's grip – not yet.

"I can't kill human beings," he snapped, his voice a low hiss. And All Might lowered both his eyebrows, grimacing now.

"Maybe not, but you do remember what those creatures are after you told the police you couldn't remember anything valuable about your past," All Might pointed out, trying to be as gentle as he could, but Hitsugaya's face still tensed, his jaw locking up. "This doesn't look good for you, young man, not unless you cooperate."

There was a moment of silence while the gears in Hitsugaya's nimble brain churned, calculating what his best moves were as quickly as he could. The boy appeared highly conflicted, and more than a little nervous. Aizawa took a few paces forward, coming to stand right behind All Might, his dark hair frizzy as usual. Hitsugaya glanced up at him, then bit his lip and closed his eyes like he was about to jump into deep water.

"…okay," he breathed. "Okay. Just…I need to see everyone injured before they get their wounds properly treated. The residue has to come off."

Aizawa nodded in understanding, then pulled at the steel bandages wrapped around his shoulders like a shawl. His expression was grim.

"Hold out your hands, please, Hitsugaya-kun," he requested softly. Wordlessly, the teenager complied, watching as his teacher bound his hands with the metal bandages. Then he was escorted inside by All Might, Aizawa, and Cementoss, and shown to the teachers' lounge. All Might put the cold sword on the table, far out of the young man's reach, and allowed Hitsugaya to treat the scratches on his bicep with some strange green glow before disappearing from the room. The other pro-heroes entered moments afterwards, and were also seen to by Hitsugaya, especially Present Mic.

But then the cat policeman that he'd met while still in the hospital walked into the room accompanied by Midnight and Nedzu. Nedzu looked simultaneously disappointed and understanding. The policeman just looked upset. The steel bandages around his wrists were replaced with a pair of heavy hexagonal handcuffs, and Cementoss carefully sculpted a small table out of cement, submerging the length of chain connecting the two cuffs in the cement and hardening it to fix the teenager's hands to the table. He struggled a little bit, surprised by the change, but quickly quieted down when Aizawa nudged his shoulder. Cementoss took his seat on Hitsugaya's other side.

"Alright, Hitsugaya-kun," Nedzu said then with a long sigh, leaning forward on the little table where Hitsugaya's wrists were shackled in place. "Let's get this over with."


	11. Spin Me a Tale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is full of Hitsugaya as his manipulative little bastard self and Nedzu as his too-smart mouse self. In other words - this is two highly intelligent creatures back-and-forth analyzing. It might get a bit confusing. But I've tried to make it somewhat easy to follow. Let me know if I didn't succeed.

Being handcuffed wasn't a new experience – _he was NOT bringing up the snow day incident again_ – but being handcuffed to a table by humans? That wasn't something he'd ever experienced before. He wasn't counting the time he'd run afoul of the gangs in Karakura, seeing as how he'd been handcuffed by the gang members and only put in a jail cell by the actual police…

Okay, maybe he needed to quit doing things to get himself arrested in the first place, but that was beside the point now. This, while not an irreparable situation, was not a pleasant one either. He was flanked by two of his teachers, hands bound to the makeshift interrogation table with just enough distance between his wrists that touching his fingertips together was uncomfortable. Nedzu and the police-cat sat across from him, Midnight standing behind them. They had a lot of questions – many of which Hitsugaya knew he could not answer. Getting out of this situation would be difficult, but hopefully not impossible. Then Nedzu put his paws together.

"I think there is one question that, at the moment, is more important than anything else," the mouse said gently. "Why did you lie about having memory loss?"

It was a good question – or at least, it would have been if there wasn't so much at stake. Seireitei had relaxed a good deal under Kyoraku-soutaicho's leadership, but divulging sensitive information, like the existence of the afterlife, to a group of living humans was entirely unacceptable. He might not be facing execution for that sin anymore, but he'd definitely lose his rank and be thrown in prison for a few decades so he could 'think about his crimes' just because Central 46 got offended. But how on earth could he explain this? Obviously working his way into their confidences by keeping his head down was a plan that had been shot to hell, but-

Wait. Maybe if he…Hitsugaya took a deep breath, flexing his hands as far as he could. Then he looked up, allowing the captain beneath the child's mask he'd been wearing to fully surface. Nedzu didn't seem surprised by the sudden cloak of authority filling the room, the projection of absolute power apparently already accounted for by the small mouse-man. The others were all visibly surprised, however. But here he was, finally being honest with them, and he was pretty sure that Nedzu was already aware that he'd dropped any pretenses just with that shift in demeanor.

If he couldn't lie his way out of this, he'd just tell them little bits of the truth and let them assume the rest.

"Amnesia is a particularly useful thing to claim when one is hiding something," he said plainly, startling Aizawa, Midnight and Cementoss with his blunt honesty. "And in this case, it was much easier than creating a fabricated tale that would inevitably have holes poked through it."

Nedzu nodded, sipping on a cup of hot tea with some measure of mixed admiration and upset, but he appeared perfectly calm. His ability to keep up with Hitsugaya's leaps of logic was refreshing – he would usually have to explain this sort of thing to his subordinates in detail.

"I suspected as much," he said, setting the cup down on a tiny paper napkin. "You're a clever boy, from what I can tell. Tell me, what exactly about your past were you hiding? You already are nonexistent according to the Japanese Ministry – why is that?"

Hitsugaya shrugged, only slightly apologetic. Here was where the assumption-making began.

"I'm not at liberty to discuss that information," he said firmly, watching as Nedzu's beady black eyes fixed firmly on his face. The teachers' lounge was silent for a moment, and then Midnight raised an eyebrow.

"…Hitsugaya, what is that supposed to mean?" she asked slowly. Toushiro tugged uncomfortably on his hands and rolled his eyes with a hint of exasperation.

"Ask Cementoss – he's the one who teaches Japanese Literature. I'm sure he can explain the definitions," he snapped sarcastically, indulging his childish, condescending side for a brief moment. Then he saw the flash of disconcerted upset on the woman's face and grudgingly sighed before giving an actual answer. "It means precisely what you think it means. I can't tell you why I don't exist on paper, and I can't tell you what it is that I'm hiding. Try again."

That answer appeared to be exactly as satisfying as he expected it to be, and as he watched the policecat's expression turn grim with annoyance, he let out a soft breath. The typical good cop/bad cop routine wasn't going to work on him, especially considering how long he'd been playing that game. The Tenth Division was in charge of internal investigation, and he'd dirtied his hands in interrogations far less kind than this one, like the time he'd be working on a case which ended in a noble's execution for a string of nasty serial murders. Over the years, his skills at extracting information had grown until they were only rivaled by the tactics of the Onmitsukido and Kyoraku-soutaicho.

Not that these living souls knew that, though.

So when Nedzu waved a paw signaling for the policeman to back off, thus disrupting the routine Hitsugaya was expecting as a simple matter of course, he raised an eyebrow in surprise and immediately started to recalculate his strategy. He narrowed his eyes, watching Nedzu carefully, and the mouse noticed this scrutiny with a somewhat pleased smile.

"Can we ask what you _are_ at liberty to discuss, Hitsugaya-kun?" he asked nonchalantly. "Or would you face consequences for even divulging that much?"

It clicked. Nedzu already had figured out what he had been trying to do, and was giving him an easy out. He had been planning on carefully wording his answers to the questions he would inevitably face until the pro-heroes realized that he was giving them bits and pieces of the answers they wanted, but Nedzu was entirely skipping that step. He couldn't stop an appreciative smirk.

"I won't quite answer that one either, Nedzu-san," he replied, "Try something…a little more specific."

The mouse smiled as well, folding his hands on the table. The pros watched the exchange taking place in shock, starting to realize the implication of Hitsugaya's subtle means of cooperation.

"Ah, I see, can't versus won't. So that is a risk you're not willing to take versus…a legal contract of some kind, binding your tongue?" Nedzu noticed the change in syntax effortlessly, and Hitsugaya's smirk cracked into an actual grin.

"I can neither confirm nor deny any conclusions you might reach, you understand," he said with a hint of amusement. Nedzu nodded simply, tipping his head to the side.

"I understand that you're trying to cooperate with us despite you being legally unable to do so in some regard," Nedzu's tone was calm but considerably relieved. "So, you would face legal consequences – not retaliation from villains – for divulging your secrets, correct?"

Ah, that one was easy. Hitsugaya nodded with a sigh.

"Something like that, for certain things," he said, being purposefully vague. Nedzu appeared to understand, however.

"If you cannot tell us about your past, can you tell us about the incident which just occurred outside? What were the creatures we were attacked by?" Nedzu's expression was at once curious and serious. Hitsugaya steeled himself for the half-truths he would have to tell.

"…the creatures are called Hollows," he said carefully. "They are a species which preys primarily upon humans, distinguishable by a hole which is typically bored through the chest cavity, though it has been known to manifest elsewhere on their bodies."

He felt Aizawa and Cementoss breathe sighs of relief when he said that, obviously not expecting him to be so forthcoming. And to be frank, he was toeing a very dangerous line, so even he was nervous. But as long as he managed to convince the pros to leave the Hollow problem to him, and kept the existence of the afterlife secret, it would be fine to tell them little tidbits about the Hollows.

Hopefully, Kyoraku would agree if he _ever_ got back to Seireitei. After killing the piece of shit responsible for destroying the humans' souls in Hosu, that was.

"And the man which you killed – he had a hole through his body as well," Nedzu prompted. Hitsugaya took a deep breath.

"He was also a Hollow, but a more advanced kind. Hollows with human appearances…are hybrids, for a lack of a better term, and they are more dangerous because of it. Their intelligence is above that of an average Hollow, and their self-control is greater," he explained carefully. "There are non-hybrid Hollows with high intelligence and self-control, of course – they are evolved to hunt humans – but this hybrid branch has the added bonus of better camouflage among a group of people."

This information appeared to surprise everyone present in the room, and before Nedzu could say anything, Midnight spoke up, her ocean eyes uncannily like Unohana's in both color and the simmering danger present there.

"That guy wasn't human?" she asked. Hitsugaya leveled a calm, cool glare at her.

"I cannot kill human beings without cause," he said coldly, narrowing his eyes in warning. "And the list of crimes which would cause me to have the authority to take a human life is both very short and very specific. If that Hollow had been human, I could not have slain him, even if he had slaughtered the entire school."

Nedzu appeared to catch the underlying current he'd put into his frost-tinged words, and the mouse relaxed then, but only slightly, a tinge of confusion passing briefly across his face.

"That isn't just a personal rule you're following, is it?" the mouse observed shrewdly, "I'll hazard a guess that's also law whichever…organization you're working for."

Hitsugaya smirked again.

"Organization is a poor choice in words," he said lightly, purposefully not acknowledging the first part of Nedzu's sentence, a factor which he knew the highly intelligent mouse would pick up on. "But acceptable for the moment."

Nedzu nodded, taking that statement at face value.

"How do you know so much about these monsters – the Hollows?" he asked, and Hitsugaya just shrugged his shoulders and raised an eyebrow.

"I can't answer that."

The policeman and the pro-heroes obviously understood where he was going with that, and Nedzu leaned forward in anticipation.

"Is there any way you could ask this 'organization' for permission to give us details on the Hollows, so we can distribute that among the pro-hero agencies-"

"Out of the question," Hitsugaya cut the mouse off flatly. "You lack the training and skill set needed to kill Hollows, and I'm not about to agree to distribute top secret information because you're asking nicely. I've already told you things I could get in trouble for. Letting you try to figure out ways to combat them might get me thrown in prison for the rest of my life."

There was dead silence for a moment, the pros obviously taken aback by his vehemence and the severity of the punishment that he could face. Hitsugaya leveled a direct glare at Nedzu.

"Leave the Hollows to me," he said stonily, displaying mild hostility for the first time since he'd entered the room. "This is non-negotiable."

The policeman-cat leaned forward, anger on his whiskered, furry face, and he slammed a fist down on the table.

"You are risking the lives of-"

"You don't have even the faintest idea of what you're talking about, and yet you think you know more about the situation than I do," Hitsugaya cut him off coldly, his reiatsu stirring just briefly, enough to give him the distinct chill of a smoldering captain. "I am not withholding this information for no reason. You lack the capability to kill those beasts. If I gave you more data on their behaviors and attack patterns, you would try to hunt them down, and you'd only get yourselves killed and slowly eaten, and not necessarily in that order, if you catch my drift. I will only say it one more time. Leave the Hollows to me. If anything, you should report all Hollows sightings to me, but I'll probably be alerted of their presence before you are."

The policecat stewed angrily, unnerved by Hitsugaya's chilly command, then slammed his hand on the table again.

"You're _fifteen_. You have absolutely _no place_ telling adults and professional fighters what to do," he said furiously, obviously unwilling to let the matter rest despite Nedzu's clearly-persuadable demeanor, and Hitsugaya finally lost his temper. He leveled a terrifying glare on the cat-Quirk man, and let his reiatsu out just enough to turn the atmosphere of the room thick and soupy, so that it would be hard for the humans to breathe. Then he stood, wrists still chained to the table, and glared down at the cat-man with death in his eyes, bringing the aura of his race to full prominence.

"I," he stated slowly, his voice deliberately patient, a cruel wrath bubbling beneath the icy veneer. "have more battle experience than the lot of you _combined_. It was not your precious adults who managed to kill those creatures. I did that – and _I_ didn't get myself hurt in the process. You were there, when I woke up in the hospital. You know about the scars I have."

Hitsugaya bared his teeth with a snarl. It was getting harder and harder to repress his full strength as his anger started to best him. ( _thank god for the limiters, honestly, otherwise he probably would have knocked them all out by now)_

"I don't have scars because I let adults and professional fighters dictate my actions, you know," he hissed, "I earned these scars through battle. And if you think that you can tell me to stand down because you know best in this precious little bubble of a 'safe world' you have, you are _wrong._ Last time I checked, experience was what mattered when you're trying not to get yourself and others killed. So keep your ignorant mouth shut."

The policeman tried to stand as well, but the increased pressure in the room due to Hitsugaya's leaking reiatsu combined with the frightening glare he was giving were enough to keep the cat-man in his seat. Then, after a moment of standing there, Hitsugaya slowly sat back down and reined in the wisp of reiatsu he had released. The pros stared at him in no little shock, his sudden vehemence and usage of intimidation tactics rather unexpected and more than a little worrying. Nedzu placed a paw on Hitsugaya's hand, a tentative gesture.

"…You say we lack the capability to kill the Hollows. Is there a way we can gain this capability?" he asked, his voice low and mild. Hitsugaya took a deep breath and tried to rein in his temper. The policeman had meant well, he knew, and he shouldn't be getting so furious over it.

"No, there is not," he replied, a note of finality in his voice. "Not legally, anyhow. Passing on the knowledge of how to kill Hollows is a crime which has the unfortunate precedent of those who are convicted of this end up getting the death penalty."

The pros looked away with a hint of mixed disgust and horror, and Hitsugaya knew then that he had successfully managed to close that conversation. Thank god for Kuchiki's botched execution, otherwise that statement would have been entirely false. But then, slowly, Cementoss laid a hand on his shoulder, the blocky face twisted into a certain kind of hesitancy.

"…you said earlier that you cannot kill human beings without cause," he began gradually, tipping his square head down so he could look the boy sitting beside him in the eyes. "But you were seen in Hosu with your blade drawn, near the site of where a villain was found, slain by a technique which would remarkably simple for you to pull off considering the speed lent by your Quirk."

Hitsugaya blinked and cocked his head to the side, a silent question on his face. His eyes narrowed in thought, and then he let out an ugly, angry laugh, as if realizing what the stoneworker was talking about.

"Oh," he said. Then he cast his gaze down at the table, clenching his fists tightly. Pity and fury warred on his face. "That poor creature."

The admission implicit in his tone had the teachers all startled, and he seemed to realize their shock. He laughed again, the sound short and tight, and shook his head with a hint of grief on his face.

"That poor thing wasn't human," he said softly. "It probably was once, maybe a nice man or woman with children and a family. But not anymore. I don't…I don't know what was done to the person it once was, but whatever terrible evil he or she suffered…that damage was irreparable."

Nedzu frowned at that, but he merely sighed and took another sip of his tea, which had probably long gone cold by this point. The mouse looked down into the ceramic mug as if trying to read the tea leaves at the bottom of his cup.

"…So you killed them," he said heavily. Hitsugaya felt his throat close up.

"Nobody should have to live like that," he forced the words out, raspy and broken. "Nothing should have to live like that, in pain and suffering because someone else has decided you're better off as an…an experiment. So…so I ended it for them. Because anything is better than that."

He knew it didn't escape anyone that he was shaking, but try as he might he couldn't seem to quell the anguish in his voice, clogging his chest and making breathing impossible. Even the mere thought of those creatures being once human, destroyed by a mad scientist for their own selfish reasons, was enough to make fear settle like lead into the pit of his stomach. Nausea swam through his abdomen in waves, and he took a moment to slow his breathing, trying to blank out the memories threatening to surge forward and overtake him.

The mousy principal gazed at him compassionately, empathy a rare sight in his beady black eyes.

"…their experiences reminded you of something you once went through," the mouse stated, obviously certain of his deduction. And Hitsugaya took a deep breath, knowing that this next phrase would give the pros and police everything they needed to understand – even if it was slightly a lie.

"…I can't answer that."

The effect was immediate, and Nedzu's gaze softened immediately. The policecat made a note of something in the little book he had, trying to hide the shame on his face from his outburst earlier.

Hitsugaya was well aware what type of conclusion that his particular word choice for his answer would enable Nedzu to find, and it was exactly what he needed right now. By saying he couldn't answer the question, he was implying that the experimentation the poor creatures had undergone reminded him of his own, similar experience, and that whatever suffering he'd gone through was related to the 'organization' which the pros had deduced he was part of. And hopefully, they would then connect his ability to kill Hollows with that experimentation.

It was a story doused in just enough truth to make it believable.

Aizawa spoke up then, the first time he'd said anything since they'd escorted Hitsugaya into the room with his hands tied in front of him like a common criminal. He looked…hollow. As if he'd already put the pieces of Hitsugaya's non-answers together enough to see the horrors his student had endured.

"…I suppose you aren't faking your PTSD to gain sympathy, then?" the exhausted-looking man asked rhetorically, his voice unusually toneless, and Hitsugaya could see his teacher's knuckles whitening out of the corner of his eye. The by-now-familiar scaly itch began to creep down his back, ghosting uncomfortably over the base of his spine and pulling on his spinal column, the strange little muscle triggered by his tension and panicked avoidance of the memories of his terrifying stint as Kurotsuchi's pet. He swallowed hard, suddenly unable to meet anyone's eyes.

"…no," he forced the words out, the painful breaking of his pride almost physically sickening him. His hands trembled, and disgusted by his own weakness, he curled his fingers into fists. "No, I…I…"

He couldn't speak, but it seemed that Aizawa understood, as did the policecat, Nedzu, and the other two pros in the room with him. They gave him a moment to regain his tongue, and he felt Aizawa's hand settle on his shoulder, holding steady for him while he fought his own incredulous disbelief while facing his own reality. Finally, he gathered the resolve and courage he needed to at least get a sentence out.

"I can't pretend something like that," he gasped out. "Not…God, you have no idea how- I can't talk about this."

He would have buried his head in his hands, but they were shackled to a concrete table and he didn't want to have to explain that he wasn't exactly human either when he broke the stone. Burying his face in Aizawa's dark shirt worked equally well anyhow, and there was a moment of startled quiet before the man's arms settled fully around his shoulders, giving him a gentle hug.

"You didn't see anything," he choked out. Aizawa's sigh could be felt, the movement of his chest especially noticeable to Hitsugaya, and he felt the man's calloused fingers weave through his white hair, tousling the soft strands.

"I didn't realize there was something to see, Hitsugaya-kun," the man replied calmly. Then he felt Aizawa turn slightly towards Nedzu and the police officer siting subdued there, still carefully keeping his arms wrapped around his student. "I think…I think we got what we needed."

There was a brief lull, and then the police officer sighed, and there was a sound like mud sucking on the bottom of a shoe. Hitsugaya's hands fell, the table suddenly nonexistent beneath them, and before he quite knew what was happening, he felt the cuffs pop off his wrists, freeing his hands. He tucked his hands into his lap, still leaning into Aizawa's shirt and trying to hold back the trembling brought on by the near-brush with his memories. Aizawa didn't seem to mind, still stroking his white hair quietly.

"We did," the cat-policeman said quietly. "That counts as a full confession, and under the circumstances coupled with his recent actions protecting you all, I'm confident that we can get his case through juvenile court with him receiving only a few months of house arrest with supervised outings and some required therapy."

Nedzu let out a relieved sigh, as did Cementoss and Midnight, and Hitsugaya felt the couch he was sitting on rise as Cementoss stood up. Then Nedzu spoke again, his voice kind.

"Thank you for being honest with us, Hitsugaya-kun," he said gently, then paused for a moment before continuing with a hint of forced cheer. "And just so you know, I happen to have gone through an experience rather similar to experimentation in the past, so if you ever want to talk to me, you are more than welcome in my office at any time."

The news was like a rinse of cold water over the burning pain in his chest, and Hitsugaya carefully pulled back until he was looking at Nedzu, staring in incredulity. He wasn't…the only one to have suffered this? Matsumoto, Muguruma, and Otorobashi didn't remember Kurotsuchi's laboratory the same way he did, but the fact that someone else may have gone through some similar – and come out the other side in one piece – was something he'd never expected. Aizawa kept a steadying arm around his shoulders as he drew back, and while he was disgusted by his own weakness he had to admit that the quiet support was helping.

"…Thank you, Nedzu-sensei," he said quietly. The mouse gave him a kind smile, then turned a beady gaze on his teacher.

"Aizawa, feel free to use the teachers' lounge as long as you need."

Aizawa nodded a touch gratefully and watched as the group left the room. Then he turned back to Hitsugaya, sitting silently beside the young man as the teenager buried his head in his hands. Toushiro couldn't stop the breathy sigh that escaped him, a mix of relief that his story had passed the test and that he had successfully managed to pull himself away from the horrors of his past. Aizawa didn't say anything to him, only sat quietly and waited for him to collect himself. Finally, he lifted his head and rubbed at his eyes, standing up and pulling away from the man.

"Thank you, Aizawa-sensei," he told the dark-haired man. Aizawa just sighed and stood up.

"I already told you I didn't see anything, kid," he replied, and Hitsugaya's lips quirked in appreciation for the man's continued adherence to the charade. "But you're welcome."


	12. Manifestation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This....this story now has a TVTropes page?!?! I'm in absolute shock. Check it out if you'd like (it's kinda short)  
> https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/FanFic/DragonBlade

**A/N: And here it is! Hitsugaya finally kicking some serious butt! (sort of) Sorry for this being so late - I post only when I'm three chapters ahead writing-wise.**

* * *

Since the second attack by the strange monsters, the teachers had all been much less quiet when it came to speaking with Hitsugaya, and he seemed to be responding to their attempts at interaction with greater frequency. He and Aizawa seemed to have magically grown close, and Izuku sometimes spotted them in the hallways, just standing and talking in soft voices whenever it had been clear that Hitsugaya had been having a hard time staying focused on the present in class. Part of him was happy that the quiet genius was seeking someone out whenever his PTSD started to creep up on him, but the other part of him was worried.

Most of the school had seen the pro-heroes take on the strange monsters, but that had been all they'd seen before the general education staff hurried everyone into interior rooms, away from windows where the monsters could break through. However, once the all-clear had been given, and the students had been released to go home for the day, Izuku had seen Hitsugaya walking back into the school. His hands had been bound, and he'd been flanked by Cementoss and Aizawa, his sword in All Might's hands.

Obviously, whatever had happened that day had worked out in Hitsugaya's favor, but Izuku couldn't help but worry, especially considering what he'd seen of Hitsugaya (or his imposter) in Hosu. It was a ridiculous worry – Aizawa knew about what he'd seen, after all – but it was still a factor of Hitsugaya's mysterious background that made him a little bit wary of his newest classmate. Of course, he couldn't worry about it for long, and that made things a little bit easier. Final exams were looming over everyone, and getting good grades took priority.

When the time came, the written exams were grueling, but thanks to the studying that Izuku had done at home, poring over his notes and textbooks for hours on end, he felt confident in his final score. He turned in his last paper with a smile and a relieved sigh, already preparing for the next day, when the real challenge would begin. Or, what would have been a 'real challenge' if the entrance exam hadn't consisted of the exact same test.

The practical exam.

The entire class arrived early that morning, and were taken immediately to change into their hero costumes – or their gym uniform, as Hitsugaya still didn't have a hero costume due to the apparent complexity of his Quirk. Then they were shuttled out to the training grounds, where a group of teachers stood, waiting for them. It was an ominous sign. Why would so many teachers be needed for a test that had previously not needed such intense supervision?

Nedzu waved as they approached, the scar over his eye stretching oddly as he smiled.

"Ah, you're all right on time, good!" he said cheerfully. "So, we've decided to mix things up a little bit, and we've changed the format of the practical exam this year. You'll all be forming teams of two, with one exception, and taking on one of the pro-heroes here, though they will be handicapped. Your objective is either to capture the hero using this pair of handcuffs-"

Nedzu held up a pair of hexagonal handcuffs, showing them to the class, and somewhere off to his left he heard a snort. Izuku glanced over to see Hitsugaya, standing unusually close to the group, a strange little smirk of amusement on his pale golden face. But then Nedzu continued speaking.

"-or have one person on your team escape through the exit gate. You have thirty minutes to complete this objective. Now, I'll go ahead and tell you all your pairings and the order you'll be competing in."

First up was Kirishima and Satou against Cementoss. Then, Asu- er, Tsuyu-chan and Tokoyami would be fighting Ectoplasm. After them, Iida and Ojiro were paired together against Power Loader, and following that match would be the rather interesting (and unfortunate) pairing of Yaoyorozu and Todoroki against Aizawa himself. After that would be Uraraka's turn, and she and Aoyama would be up against Thirteen. Then, Ashido and Kaminari would be pitted against Nedzu – oh _no_ , that was going to end badly unless one of those two had learned how to strategize properly – and they'd be followed by a match between Present Mic, Jirou and Kouda. After that, Hagakure and Shoji would be up against Snipe, followed by a match with Sero and Mineta facing off against Midnight.

Izuku felt a chill pulse down his spine, and he hesitantly looked over the nine teachers standing in front of them. Who was he facing off against? And…was he partnering with Bakugo, Hitsugaya, or being left as the exception? Oh god, his options were Bakugo, Hitsugaya, or being alone. He couldn't decide which was worse. And then All Might and Endeavor – _how did they get Endeavor to agree to participate in this?!_ – appeared from around the corner, and he felt himself pale. Things had just gotten much worse.

"The tenth match-up will be Bakugo and Midoriya versus All Might," Nedzu said cheerfully. "And Hitsugaya-kun, you will be up against Endeavor by yourself."

Izuku turned to stare at Bakugo in shock, and was taken aback to see that Bakugo was looking at him in that same incredulous manner. But as soon as they made eye contact, some kind of spiteful anger flared across the blonde teenager's face and he looked away, scowling. Izuku bit his lower lip, suddenly feeling that he was doomed. He had the sinking sensation that Bakugo wouldn't even want to try and attempt any sort of teamwork, and there was no way they'd be able to escape All Might unless they pooled their strength.

Hitsugaya took a step forward then, the warm sunlight casting the lean, sinewy muscle of his arms and shoulders into slight shadow while making the warm gold undertones of his skin glow. He seemed very calm today, and the small distance he'd placed between himself and the rest of the class was probably the closest he'd ever come to standing shoulder to shoulder with them. Nedzu gave the white-haired teenager an unusually serious look as he approached.

"Is something the matter, Hitsugaya-kun?" he asked patiently. Hitsugaya shrugged nonchalantly and cocked an eyebrow.

"Just wanted to let you know that you're not being very subtle," he said simply. "And if you want a better picture of my skill, I wouldn't give Endeavor-san the handicap."

The statement was neutral, Hitsugaya's tone startlingly even, but the words that came out of his mouth were incredible in nothing more than their meaning. It took Izuku a second to grasp the full importance of what the white-haired teenager was saying, but when he did he whirled around to stare at the mysterious boy in shock. He wasn't the only one, either. Todoroki – Shouto _and_ Enji – were also staring soundlessly at Hitsugaya, and as he gaped, Yaoyorozu took a hesitant, stunned step towards the boy who had been threatening to upset her spot at the top of the class.

"…Hitsugaya-san, Endeavor is the second-highest ranked hero…" her voice trailed off as Hitsugaya glanced over his shoulder to meet her gaze. That strange little smirk of amusement was back, but he said nothing as he turned away. Nedzu was silent for several moments, and in this interim time Hitsugaya ducked under the leather strap holding his sword to his back so he could hold the sheathed weapon in his hands. The mousy principal just looked at him.

"You have enough control?" he said finally. Hitsugaya's lips quirked on one side, a sudden, inexplicable wave of confidence bordering on arrogance rolling off him.

"…I have always had control of my blade," he replied, his tone soft. And then Nedzu sighed, pulling a keyring from his back pocket. To Izuku's utter shock, the principal then proceeded to unlock the steel cuffs from the weapon's hilt and sheath. Endeavor watched with narrowed eyes, then finally spoke.

"I was briefed on you before coming here, Hitsugaya Toushiro," he said ominously. "You should not think I cannot fully draw out the power of your strange Quirk, or that your Quirk has no counter."

Hitsugaya stiffened then, hands tightening on his sheathed sword, and he had to fight to take a deep, calming breath, his face reddening as if he was trying not to scratch an itch. He nodded tightly, then fell back into place, a little closer to the group than last time. Then they all scattered, moving to their respective arenas where their battles would happen.

Izuku walked alongside Bakugo, trying his best to engage the other boy in strategic discussion about their plan of action, but the blonde was having none of it. And this pattern continued throughout the planning period they had before their match was due to start. It was even worse during the match itself – the bruise on Izuku's face wouldn't be fading anytime soon. But somehow Katsuki had come around.

Maybe it had been what he'd said about how Bakugo had promised to never lose and that he should just accept others' strength so that he could achieve that goal. Or maybe it had been something All Might had said. Or maybe Katsuki had finally learned to see through that mask of self-assured blindness and had realized that the Quirkless loser he used to torment was quickly figuring out how to stand on his own. But whatever the cause, they had ended up working together to end up escaping the arena. Katsuki had even lent Izuku one of his exploding gauntlets.

Izuku had ended up carrying Katsuki away from the broken street – and had punched All Might in the face to safely get them out of there. He still wasn't fully calm from the adrenaline spike, but he'd felt well enough after Recovery Girl had healed him that he'd been allowed to stand and watch the other fights progressing in the monitoring room. Most of them had finished up by now, considering that his test had been the second-to-last to start, but a notable exception was Ashido and Kaminari's exam. Both of them were still running around the arena like chickens with their heads cut off while Nedzu cackled from his position behind the controls of a wrecking ball. But besides them, the only other exam still ongoing was Hitsugaya's.

Or, at least, it should still be ongoing. Hitsugaya's exam had started ten minutes after he and Bakugo had been let into their own arena to face off against All Might, so he should only be about five minutes into his exam at this point. However, the cameras had mostly cut out. The pitchy whine of fuzz and disjointed voices crackled through the screens, pixelated black and white dots buzzing the viewing window into grey every other second or so. Izuku's eyebrows furrowed.

"…What's going on with the cameras watching Hitsugaya-san's match?" he asked. Recovery Girl shook her head, still typing on the keyboard.

"I don't know, Midoriya-kun. The signal isn't clearing up, and Endeavor-san's earpiece also seems to be malfunctioning."

The lack of basic communication was mildly worrying, but then Izuku's eyes widened in shock, completely ignoring the fact that Ashido and Kaminari had just run out of time to find their way to the exit.

"Aren't the earpieces and the video coming through different radio frequencies?" he asked anxiously. "What if the signal is being jammed?"

Recovery Girl glanced at him with a hint of that same anxiety on her old face, but she shook her head.

"It's rather unlikely, considering that only the signals coming from Hitsugaya-kun and Endeavor-san's immediate area are malfunctioning. A jamming signal would be extremely difficult to keep this localized," she said after a moment, absently greeting a few of the other pro-heroes and the students as they shuffled curiously into the monitoring room. Almost immediately, Aizawa's gaze focused on the screen which should have been showing Hitsugaya's match. His jaw noticeably tightened.

"…He did say he knew why we asked Endeavor to come in, and why his match is the only solo one," Aizawa said after a moment. Recovery Girl nodded tightly, but sighed with some resignation.

"It's too localized to be a jamming signal, Aizawa-kun," she chided gently. "It's unfortunate but-"

The screen crackled loudly, sparks flashing across the fuzzy static of the visuals of Hitsugaya's exam. Everyone stared at it as time ticked down, and as more of the pros and the student-duos they'd fought began to slip into the room – Nedzu, Kaminari, and Ashido being the last group to enter around the seventeen-minute mark – the sound gradually began to start clearing up. And finally, Endeavor's voice came through in perfect, panicked clarity.

_~"Recovery Girl- son of a- Recovery Girl! Can you hear me?! Answer, dammit, this is an emergency!"~_

Suddenly, the awful grinding of breaking stone echoed over the speakers, and Endeavor yelled something unintelligible. Recovery Girl instantly grabbed the microphone, still watching the fuzzy screen, and pressed a button.

"Endeavor-san, what's wrong?" she said hurriedly. "This is the first time I've been able to hear you since the two-minute mark, and we still don't have visual."

There was some breathless gasping for a moment before the Pro-hero could answer, and a low, nearly-inhuman growling that filled the speakers and sent chills down everyone's spines.

_~"The kid has gone berserk, and if I don't get backup I'm not sure I'll make it out of this in one piece!"~_ he snapped, his voice quick and hurried, like he was racing against time. ~ _"You incompetent fools told me he has a speed Quirk!"~_

Aizawa ran forward at that, snatching the microphone from Recovery Girl.

"He _does_ have a speed Quirk, or at least something very similar to a speed Quirk," Aizawa retorted, dawning realization on his face. At the back of the room, All Might began to pale. "I've seen him use it."

There was a snort of derision and another thunderous crash, followed by a low curse from Endeavor.

_~"Then explain this,"~_ he hissed, a note of hysteria entering his voice. And suddenly, the screen displaying static and pixelated nothing began to clear up, until the startling picture was fully visible. Endeavor was obviously holding the malfunctioning camera, judging by the way it shook, but the image was steady enough to decipher.

Izuku felt the breath leave his lungs. Hitsugaya had been in one of the city-block training grounds. And it had been reduced to rubble. Massive spires of crystalline ice shot through entire buildings, cutting them in half, and in a few places there were the flickering remnants of flame, dancing over the broken concrete and twisted steel. And in the center of all the destruction stood a blank-faced Hitsugaya, his gym uniform shredded in places, his gaze terrifyingly empty. He was shaking violently, mouthing breathless words too fast for Izuku to make out what he was saying.

But the most startling part of it all was that every inch of his exposed skin save his face was covered in silver-blue scales. His fingers now ended with sharp white claws, and the unseeing emerald of his eyes was cut in half by a slitted, predatory pupil. Blood dripped down his chin, trickling from between his lips and drawing momentary attention to the fact that he had a pair of small, curved fangs.

He'd manifested a second Quirk.

_What?!_

Aizawa took a deep breath to steady himself and leaned forward, knuckles whitening on the control board.

"Endeavor, has he been responding to anything you say or do at all?" he asked, his voice strained. There was a pained cough from the other side of the microphone.

_~"He attacks every time I try to melt this ice-breath of his,"~_ the other man grunted. ~ _"But otherwise he's been murmuring nonsense the whole time."~_

Aizawa cursed under his breath.

"He's probably having a flashback – and something has made it violent," the teacher said, shrugging his eye protection on. "We'll have to sedate him. Can you keep him occupied until we arrive, or are you hurt?"

There was another cough.

_~"I can keep him occupied, but not for much longer. The little brat got me good, early on in this fight when he was still in control of himself. Hurry up,"~_ Endeavor hissed. There was the sudden crackle of flame in the background, and as Class 1-A watched numbly, Hitsugaya's eyes snapped onto the man holding the camera. And suddenly the white-haired teenager screamed, clutching at his chest, and his eyes flashed into orbs of bloodthirsty scarlet.

And with the telltale sound of tearing fabric, a pair of wide silvery wings sprouted from between his shoulder blades, followed almost immediately by a long, scaly tail tipped with a crescent-moon shaped barb. The delicate wings stirred, bone and pale silver-blue membrane creaking as Hitsugaya's weight shifted. The scales on either side of his neck began to glow blue, the glow creeping up to illuminate the scales rimming his face, and he opened his bloodied mouth to reveal the bluish glow at the back of his throat. The slitted green of his eyes broke back through the red film then, still blank but less terrifying, and less like those of a man-eating beast.

And then a stream of icy blue flame surged from between Hitsugaya's lips, ice crackling instantly over everything the ice-fire cut through, and with a keening howl, the ice shot into another tall spire, piercing a concrete skyscraper in the side and causing it to tumble down. The camera jumped horribly, swirling around as Endeavor ran from the encroaching ice, his fire sizzling out on the icy patches he touched.

Izuku broke away from the strangely mesmerizing images of Hitsugaya's second Quirk running wild and looked back only to see that all the pro-heroes had gone except for Recovery Girl. Todoroki took a step forward, transfixed by Hitsugaya's ability to breathe ice, and clenched his fists in something like worry as he heard his father' s attempts to defend and distract the rampaging teenager mix slowly with the grunts of pain and soreness.

"…what _is_ Hitsugaya-san?" he whispered. Nobody quite knew how to answer that. Izuku just put a hand on Todoroki's shoulder and squeezed lightly, trying to be compassionate, but soon returned to staring at the screen alongside most of his fellow classmates.

Another few blasts of ice later, Endeavor seemed to be done playing around, and he released a huge torrent of flame to melt an incoming attack. But the sight of the massive pillar of fire seemed to trigger something in Hitsugaya, who cried out again and suddenly collapsed to the pavement, convulsing sharply. He writhed, screaming for a brief moment as the sight of the intense flames dragged him further down into the hallucinated memories playing in front of his eyes. And then his body suddenly slackened, going utterly limp save a few shuddering tremors, and tendril of ghostly white light leaked from his chest.

Izuku stared as the wisp of white light quivered into the atmosphere, reminded of Tokoyami's Dark Shadow for a moment. But then the wisp of white exploded, sending powerful claws smashing into the pavement and cracking the stone, a towering, sinuous body covered in silver-blue scales materializing out of that white wisp, a gaping maw and glaring red eyes shining down from a scaled head. The dragon roared thunderously, Hitsugaya's shuddering form nestled carefully against one huge, clawed foot. The beast's huge tail lashed violently against the building just behind it, sending a cascade of broken glass and concrete raining down into the street. While only half as tall as the zero-point robot, the sinuous, long body of the dragon was at least twice as long, and as everyone watched it breathed a terrifying blast of ice onto the inferno of Endeavor's flames, snuffing them instantly. The camera bounced again as Endeavor ran.

Izuku felt even the slightest iota of skepticism be replaced with stunning fear and awe, realizing exactly what was happening.

"That dragon…that has to be his Quirk," he breathed, causing Iida, Todoroki, and most of the rest of the stricken observers to stare at him instead. "Or at least the source of his second Quirk, if the semi-speed Quirk is actually separate."

The dragon disappeared after a moment, Hitsugaya staggering upright like a drunken sailor. But as the dragon vanished, so did any trace of the scales, wings, or tail on Hitsugaya's body, his new Quirk evaporating like dew on a summer's day. It didn't seem to faze the stricken teenager in the slightest, and Aizawa carefully dropped into the street right in front of the white-haired boy, his hair swirling around his head.

He'd erased Hitsugaya's Quirk.

Then there was a slight explosion, and Hitsugaya stumbled sideways, a large dart stuck in his hip. It took three minutes for Hitsugaya to completely collapse, but when he did Aizawa was there to catch him gently and pull the tranquilizer dart from his student's flesh. Hitsugaya didn't stir, limp and pale in Aizawa's secure grasp, and then Endeavor approached cautiously, his movements slow. Aizawa turned to face him, expression grim. A flicker of worry darted across his face.

_~"…he did a number on you. Are you alright, Endeavor?"~_ Aizawa's voice was a little soft when heard over the speakers, but as Midnight, All Might and Snipe, who was equipped with a tranquilizer gun, dropped onto the street, Endeavor came closer and the voices cleared up.

_~"…I'd like to say yes,"~_ the man grumbled irritably. ~ _"But no – I'm pretty sure your brat broke a rib or two when he roundhouse-kicked me in the chest earlier. And if I were anyone else, I'd also be suffering from hypothermia, if not frostbite."~_

Then the camera shifted a little bit, and Izuku realized for the first time that Endeavor had probably melted the camera's outer plastic shell to his body. That was really clever, he thought absently.

_~"But that's beside the point now. You asked me to assess whether or not he was a threat,"~_ Endeavor grunted. ~ _"And I think all this destruction speaks for itself. I've never seen a Quirk that out of control since the first time I manifested mine and burned my whole house down. His combat skill-set would already make him a dangerous opponent, even if he was Quirkless. Combined with this Quirk – along with the one you lot reported to me – he's easily a force of nature."~_

All Might approached then, his smile turning slowly into a grimace of worry. Endeavor sighed as the number one hero approached, then turned to more fully face the muscular man.

_~"All Might,"~_ he said, his voice chilly, an odd paradox. ~ _"Whenever you have time, I would advise you to keep an eye on that brat you have. You too, Eraserhead. If this whelp learns how to control this second Quirk of his but then becomes a villain, he'll probably be the greatest threat in Japan."~_

The pros kept talking quietly amongst themselves after that comment, exchanging anxious looks, and Aizawa's eyebrows furrowed together as he gently lifted the unconscious boy in his arms. Recovery Girl swallowed hard, then pressed a button on her microphone.

"Bring him to the infirmary, Shouta, I want to know why he's bleeding from his mouth. Endeavor, you are welcome to receive treatment here as well. As for the rest of you, someone please escort the students back to their classroom," she ordered, her voice sounding tired. Then Nedzu spoke up, his voice unusually grim.

~ _"I don't like doing this,"~_ he said darkly, beady eyes flashing. ~ _"But I feel that we should probably keep Hitsugaya-kun under some form of sedation for the time being, at least until he wakes."~_

Recovery Girl nodded in agreement, but let out a little huff of annoyance and upset at the principal.

"Yes, we should. But not because that boy needs to be caged, but rather because he needs rest from the horrors in his past," she scolded sharply. Nedzu's whiskers twitched, the tiny mouse slightly displeased by the response.

_~"Chiyo-san, I understand better than anyone here what this boy has gone through,_ "~ the principal said firmly, ~ _"and I understand how bad of a decision this may be. But what happened here today – this cannot be allowed to happen again. If sedation is not acceptable to you, restraining him may be our only option to prevent him lashing out upon waking up, and I would avoid that if at all possible."~_

The conversation between the pros continued for a few more minutes, but finally Recovery Girl stood up and turned the sound off, then hurried out of the monitoring room towards her infirmary, where Hitsugaya, Endeavor, and several of the other pros would inevitably end up. The students of Class 1-A were chased out of the monitor room a few minutes later by a tight-lipped Snipe and a stunned Midnight, herded back to the locker rooms where they were all instructed to change and leave school for the day.

_Test results would be back tomorrow – yes, we know it's three hours early, but you all need to go home while Nedzu, Aizawa, and All Might sort this out. Go on now._

The words were hurried, anxious looks thrown all around the classroom, but slowly the students all obeyed, gathering their books and heading for the gate. Izuku's head was spinning, the sheer amount of power Hitsugaya had displayed in his semiconscious state almost unbelievable. The amount of ice he'd created at once had been comparable to Todoroki's attack during the Sports Festival, but the color had been a little different, and the consistency of the ice had obviously been altered somehow. Otherwise there would have been no way that the concrete and steel buildings could have been shattered so quickly. And then there was the matter of the massive dragon that had appeared once Hitsugaya had collapsed, suggesting that the source of the white-haired teenager's power was similar to Tokoyami's Dark Shadow.

Hitsugaya had been screaming.

The thought was what stopped Izuku short, and he turned around to stare up at the school, heart clenching in his chest as he remembered that horrifying sound echoing over the microphone. Toushiro hadn't meant for any of that destruction to occur, he understood, compassion bleeding from his heart, and he clutched the straps of his bookbag a little tighter. It had been obvious that Hitsugaya had been trapped in some horrible memory, utterly lost in his own past. Even if he had been the cause of so much damage, he didn't deserve to be punished out of hand for something so out of his control.

So Izuku turned around, heading towards the rear of the school where the dorms were located. He'd never been to Hitsugaya's dorm before, but given just how few students boarded at U.A. Academy, it wasn't very difficult to figure out where he lived. And when he arrived at the dorms, he was surprised to find that he wasn't the only one waiting there. Todoroki and Tokoyami were sitting on benches, bookbags at their feet, and Yaoyorozu was sitting next to Tsuyu-chan and Uraraka beneath a large oak tree. Iida was hovering near them, obviously anxious. And a little bit off from the others were Kirishima, grinning brightly, and an oddly pensive Bakugo – recovered from overusing his Quirk – slumped against the concrete side of the dorms.

Yaoyorozu waved as he approached, giving Izuku a very serious look.

"The others want an update as soon as we learn if Hitsugaya-san is okay," she said, her voice subdued. "But we agreed that the entire class showing up would be a bit much. Even the nine of us here seems like too large a group, but we'll have to make do."

Izuku nodded, then settled in to wait between Uraraka and Iida, placing his backpack on the ground. Then he put his head on his knees, pulling his legs up to his chest with a sigh. And as they waited, a slow plan began to form.

* * *

**So. Endeavor. I hate him. Sorta. Most recent chapter of BnHA manga have me like 'alright bro, I can respect that you're tryna change, but still get away from my boi Shouto.**


	13. Price to Pay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a TVTropes page!!! Link: https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/FanFic/DragonBlade

**A/N: Welp, and here's the aftermath of Toushiro's psychotic snap. And some of you thought I was powering him up. For shame! Don't you know me? No power-up comes without a cost.**

* * *

_Concrete and glass, tall skyscrapers reaching the clouds in fractals of rectangular regularity. A soul, dim and human, moving towards him at a steady run, a slow human sprint that could easily be outclassed by even the weakest shinigami. And blue eyes, filled with fire, with anger and annoyance that would have been cold had there not been condescension tinged by fury boiling under the blue sheen._

_It was too easy, really, the world shifting into a familiar blur of color and light and sound and wind, the sky whispering to him as he stepped, crossing miles in a breath and yards in a blink. He came out of Shunpo with a kick, joints creaking with the effort of holding back, of holding himself to the low human standard, and felt ribs snap under his foot, his prey knocked backward and off balance._

_And then red hair rippled into flame and he'd felt his heart still in his chest, a spasm of pain searing through the tender organ. But he'd blinked, gritting his teeth. No mohawks, no sass, no intolerable emptiness in his soul. His dragon was with him, and he would not lose this time._

_The world turned as he did, spinning headfirst backward down the street, hands and feet each touching the warm asphalt in succession. Endeavor chased him, the spark of glimmering orange light spreading to his limbs until a firework crept after him at a snail's pace._

_Then there was a snarl, a jeering shout of "Petty tricks will not work on me, brat!" and a spiral of pointed flame and heat, a fist coated in thick heat thrown at his face- chest- face- heart, cauterized instantly, rupturing down the center of his body so that he bled freely-_

_A cry, shout of fear, robot human face in a shattered store window, the screaming of the unseated, the weak, the powerless, and fire consuming his cold soul from the inside out, but he had to fight-_

_A slash, flame severing the sky from corner to corner, bisecting him- not this time-_

_Lying on the ground, cut in two- cauterized so there's no blood, can't have the children seeing that- can't move- skin prickling with pain, throat slowly being cut open- here is the execution that never came-_

_He's not ready to die yet._

_Hyourinmaru._

Help…

_And power turned his blood to ice._

…

…

…

"…gentle, we don't want to frighten him."

"He'll be fine, Aizawa. Recovery Girl put him on nitrous oxide and painkillers - he should feel nice and relaxed when he wakes up. Poor boy deserves at least that much."

There were voices around him, kind voices that held warmth and concern, familiar voices that cut through the vague murk of the half-formed dreams curling around him. Warmth was soaking through him, the softness of cotton cradling him in sunbeams, and he felt like he had managed to snuggle into a downy nest of sunshine. He shifted a little bit, tired by something, his throat numb. Wherever he was, it was warm, and he could tell that he was safe, the weak, gentle reiatsu lapping at his skin that of concerned humans. Slowly, his mind began to clear, the soft warmth of his surroundings gently tugging him back to full awareness, and after a moment of drifting aimlessly in the void he allowed himself to follow that pull.

The first thing he became aware of was a soft rubber thing on his face, covering his nose, and the cool current of air running through that sealed-off area. The scent of that air was a little bit sterile, just a touch different from normal air, but even as he arrived at the conclusion that someone was purposefully giving him some kind of inhalant he realized that the gas was contained in the rubber hood over his nose, allowing him to breathe normal air as well. It was a supplement of some kind then, rather than a drug delivered for the sole purpose of incapacitating him.

His throat was also very numb, the lack of feeling there somewhat worrisome but a good deal more familiar. He'd been under anesthetics enough times to recognize the telltale numbness of strong painkillers. He'd been injured, then? How…

_Fire._

His eyes snapped open in muted panic, trying to raise his hands to protect himself from the Quincy's piercing flames, but he couldn't move his arms. Soft, wide cuffs around his wrists kept him from fighting, from resisting, but even though he was trapped the spike of expected fear was blunted – by the gas, he assumed – into mild concern. He went still, the gentle restraints keeping him pinned in bed, then shook himself a little bit, finally recognizing the ceiling above him. The U.A. infirmary. A kind voice sighed from somewhere out of his immediate line of vision.

"Ah, you're finally awake, Hitsugaya-kun." The wrinkled face of Recovery Girl slid into his vision, smiling slightly, and he felt her hand slide down to his wrists, undoing the restraints on his hands. Then, before he could pull his hands away, she gently pressed two fingers to the underside of his wrist, checking his pulse. He stilled obediently – years of being Unohana's patient had at least drilled that into his head.

"Nice and steady," she said, still speaking calmly. "That went much better than expected. Would you like to sit up a little bit?"

What went better than expected? He blinked at Recovery Girl in confusion, but opened his mouth to speak anyway.

"Ye-"

He cut himself off in the middle of the word as fire flared through his vocal cords, searing pain rendering him instantly unable to speak. He closed his eyes tightly, clamping his hands around his neck with a grimace. Recovery Girl let him breathe for a minute, then sat him up against some pillows and pressed a kiss to his forehead – god, her Quirk was weird. Almost immediately the pain began to ease up, and he started to get tired again.

"…ow…" he whispered, thankful that at least that soft sound hadn't scraped over the shredded, raw insides of his throat. Then he saw that Aizawa, Nedzu, and the man he'd been fighting during the final exam were all sitting in the room, along with a skinny, emaciated man with reiatsu identical to All Might. What the hell had happened-?

Oh. Oh _shit_.

The fire – now he remembered where it had come from, what had caused it, and his eyes slowly slid to Endeavor, horror flashing in his gaze. The red-haired man gazed evenly down at him, outright hostility in that blue glare.

"You almost killed me, you know," Endeavor said neutrally, but at the thought Toushiro couldn't help but flinch away. Killing a living human was tantamount to betraying everything he'd ever stood for, betraying every single oath he'd ever sworn during his time in the Gotei 13. But before he could respond someone else cut in, their voice chilly.

"That's enough, Endeavor," Aizawa said sharply. "Either keep your mouth shut or leave. Hitsugaya-kun doesn't need censure at the moment."

The silence that fell afterward was frigid, and Toushiro found himself gaping wordlessly at Aizawa, stunned by the fact that the teacher had leapt to his defense so quickly. Then the tired gaze turned on him, and he quickly dropped his gaze to the side. The little mask over his nose was definitely some kind of calming gas, and for the first time he was thankful that he was a little drugged up. Otherwise he knew that he'd be getting emotional – likely angry – because of yet another failure on his part. And anger was the last thing he needed right now, if he was to rectify this situation in any way.

"Hitsugaya-kun, look at me, please."

He bit his lower lip, fists clenching in the sheets, and allowed his gaze to drift back up. Aizawa was looking at him – just looking at him, no condemnation or judgement or pity anywhere within that dark stare.

"Do you remember what happened?" Aizawa's tone was even, his hands resting nonchalantly in his lap as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. Hitsugaya swallowed.

"…A-a little bit," he whispered, wincing as his throat protested, still very sore. He could barely _speak_. What the _hell_ had happened? "I saw fire and… _shit_."

He shook himself, banishing the thoughts of Quincies with mohawks and Matsumoto's bloodied body – _he hadn't been strong enough to protect them_ – as best as he could. He felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder and squeeze lightly. All Might's inexplicably emaciated face was closer than he'd expected, but instead of the usual showboating splendor there was only a deep-rooted kindness, a compassionate determination. Hitsugaya's lips curled up a little bit in a sour half-smile – it was so strange, just how similar Midoriya and All Might were, and that wasn't even considering the traces of All Might's mutated reiatsu present in Midoriya's soul.

"I lost control," he whispered roughly. For his throat to hurt this much after one of Recovery Girl's healing kisses combined with his accelerated shinigami healing – what on earth had he done? "And…I was fighting? All I can remember is…well, a memory."

Nedzu nodded once, pressing his paws together.

"Yes, you did lose control, and with quite devastating consequences," the small mouse said seriously. "I already deduced that you were having a flashback, perhaps triggered by the sight of Endeavor's flames, but the ensuing destruction your Quirk caused was enough to warrant the use of a tranquilizer gun, as well as the restraints and the laughing gas you're still on."

Hitsugaya wasn't surprised by that. His power would have been difficult to contain without subduing him from a safe distance, but what he was surprised by was the immediate assumption that his shinigami powers fell under the category of a Quirk. The release of his Zanpakuto, or even his inhuman strength, agility, and speed should have been enough to raise a few eyebrows, considering that the humans assumed Shunpo was his Quirk. Unless…

He glanced down at his hands, flexing his fingers curiously. The dry skin on the backs of his hands crackled unpleasantly, nasty pale flakes of dead skin floating away. He winced. That hurt too, and as he watched, incredulous, his skin began to bead with blood. How did his skin get this chapped, and so quickly?

"…My Quirk?" he asked slowly in that same whisper. Aizawa cleared his throat.

"Yes, your Quirk," Aizawa said seriously. "But not the Quirk that causes you to move at incredible speeds or allows your hands to glow. This Quirk appears to be something else entirely."

Hitsugaya sucked in a sharp breath, then winced.

"The scales," he breathed in realization. The stupid scales, caused by the weird frequency of mutated reiatsu emitted by All Might and Midoriya. Was that really what had happened? It had seemed so innocuous before. Nedzu nodded, his beady eyes softening slightly.

"Yes, the scales," he confirmed. "But it is more than that. You sprouted a pair of wings and a long tail with a sharp barb, and appeared to grow fangs and claws in addition to the pupils of your eyes changing shape. In addition, you were able to breathe a strange type of flame that froze whatever it touched, and after a particularly distressing scene you collapsed and a creature I can only describe as a dragon emerged from your body."

_…_ _What the hell?_

"This second Quirk of yours…to say the least, this sort of occurrence has never been documented on this scale before, except in the case of the creatures called Nomu, one of which you killed in Hosu two months ago," Nedzu elaborated, and suddenly Hitsugaya felt electricity crackle down his spine. Suddenly, he knew _exactly_ what the pros suspected of this 'second' Quirk, and what that meant about the extent of their knowledge concerning the whole mangled-human affair. They thought the same person who had created the Nomu had also given him this Quirk.

Maybe this would work out to his advantage after all.

Hesitantly, with a quick glance in Recovery Girl's direction, he pulled the nose hood from his face and took a few deep breaths of clean air. Then he narrowed his eyes in Nedzu's direction.

"What are you trying to say?" he whispered carefully, acutely aware of the sudden shift in the room's atmosphere. Nedzu pressed the circular pads of his paws together, gazing evenly at the boy in the bed.

"No human has ever been known to develop a second Quirk so powerful unless they have directly interacted with a villain known as All-For-One," the mouse said calmly. "Some receive these Quirks willingly. Some are forced to take them. And some…some are used as human experiments, as creatures designed to cause chaos – the Nomu. You have alluded to undergoing something similar to this in the past, as well as belonging to an organization. And All-For-One is suspected to be the mastermind behind the League of Villains."

Oh. Oh, that was a reasonable leap in logic, and while it was very much incorrect, it made enough sense that it could destroy his story. In addition, he'd withheld the 'truth' from the pros before, making them that much less likely to believe anything he said now.

But now he finally had a lead on the person responsible for the spiritual mutilation of the human souls he'd sensed in Hosu. And it had been under his nose the entire time.

He swallowed gently, thinking, and was pleased when his throat only twinged slightly.

"Ah," he said finally, his voice still faint. "Now I see where you're coming from. That's a reasonable conclusion, but it's entirely wrong."

All Might's grip on his shoulder became a little bit tighter.

"Is it?" the emaciated man asked, his voice still kind, but now hiding a hint of steel that surprised the young shinigami captain more than he'd like to admit. And here he'd thought this man was all ridiculous smiles and bombastic charm.

"Yes, it is," Hitsugaya said then, taking a deep breath that scraped over his sore vocal chords. This move would be risky, but he knew that he could make it convincing, and as far as he could think it was the only option left available to him. "I have told you that my organization – as poor wording as that is – does not allow its agents to kill any humans except in a very small range of exceptions."

Then he looked directly into All Might's shadowed eyes and allowed reiatsu to prickle over his skin.

"But this man you call All-For-One," Toushiro said, his voice devoid of emotion. "He is an exception. And now that I know of his existence, my orders are absolute. He must be eliminated by any means necessary."

The pros started at the cold cruelty dripping from his words. Endeavor in particular seemed alarmed.

"…Are you saying you'll kill this man?" he asked, obviously taken aback. Hitsugaya let out a long breath. Step two, now.

"It will not be my first execution," he replied, his voice still low and raw and painful. "Though it will be my first time killing a human."

Then Nedzu's whiskers twitched, the beady eyes narrowing, and Hitsugaya knew the mouse had finally caught on.

"…You've executed others of your kind before?" he questioned gently. Hitsugaya's lips curled back, revealing teeth in a vampiric smile much more similar to a grimace. He'd figured the mouse would get it first, all the little hints and discrepancies that had been building up over the weeks. But to hear it put so bluntly by a living soul railed against everything he'd ever been taught as a shinigami, and he had to fight to keep himself from disappearing. They knew he wasn't human now, but they didn't know he was dead. They didn't know about the existence of the afterlife – and that was what really mattered.

High risk, high reward. Let's hope this paid off.

"…I was wondering when you'd guess that," he said tightly. Aizawa, All Might, and Endeavor stiffened, each one of them finally catching on to the careful wording and the subtle hostility. All Might's shaded eyes widened in shock.

"You're not…" his voice trailed off into the sudden silence. Hitsugaya glanced at him, a hint of patience in his jade eyes.

"It's not something I could have told you on my own – only confirm," the young captain explained patiently. Then he let his expression change, a hint of bitterness settling there. "I was human, once. Now I am not, for reasons I cannot reveal."

And, set. Nedzu, the mouse as quick as ever, instantly keyed in to his subtle line, taking the hook in careful paws.

"This 'organization' of yours and their experiments again, I assume," the mouse said, but there was a deceptive calmness in his voice that instantly had Toushiro on edge, mentally running through everything he'd ever said concerning his origins. "It does seem strange, however, that an 'organization' which employs non-humans sends its employees to deal with other non-human entities which apparently consume humans."

Hitsugaya felt his heart clench painfully in his chest before he took a soft breath to calm himself, his vocal cords still protesting. The pain was gradually easing up, though. Nedzu was making connections quicker than he could head them off, but this one could work in his favor.

"Ah, you mean the Hollows," he said nervously, finally allowing that genuine wariness to surface on his face, and he knew Nedzu saw it. The mouse principal would be more than capable of reaching his own conclusions. "You realize I can't tell you anything more than what I've already said about them."

The mouse smiled and stood, his little waistcoat a bit rumpled from his time sitting in a chair.

"Even that is enough, Hitsugaya-kun," he said gently. "Thank you. Now, about this second Quirk of yours."

Toushiro shook his head, smiling ruefully, then bit his lip and concentrated on his hands, tentatively pulling on that unusual little muscle he'd developed upon first coming into contact with All Might and Midoriya's strange, almost humming reiatsu. With a slight shimmer, scales rippled over his knuckles and up his forearms, the silvery-blue texture smooth. The teachers sucked in breaths of surprise at his control, and then he relaxed the scales back into his skin. Then he let out a short hiss, the dry skin cracking even worse as he turned his Quirk off. Blood trickled from the cracks in his flaking skin, and Recovery Girl quickly took his hands in her gloved ones.

"I don't know where this came from," he said after a long moment of allowing the old woman to slather moisturizing lotion onto his cracked skin and wrap the affected areas in a layer of protective gauze. "But I have noticed that it seems to grow stronger every…every time I…well, you get the picture."

The words wouldn't come, sticking to his tongue, and he gritted his teeth, fisting his hands in the sheets. For a moment the pros let him have his silence, and then Aizawa spoke up, a slow suspicion forming behind his scraggly stubble.

"Could this be a latent gene triggered by his PTSD?" the teacher wondered. Recovery Girl frowned.

"It is possible, but for a powerful Quirk such as this one to be so hidden through simple epigenetics is very rare, even more so because there was no indication of its existence earlier," she said, folding her hands in her lap, her expression thoughtful. "There have certainly been cases recorded where an individual's Quirk is altered due to trauma or environmental exposure affecting their genetic expression, but the scale is much smaller."

Aizawa suddenly moved a bit closer and settled a hand in Hitsugaya's soft white mane, and Toushiro scowled, brushing the hand off with a moody glare. The teacher's expression was soft, a hint of amusement entering that dark stare when Toushiro reacted in a manner so unexpectedly childish.

"Well, as Hitsugaya-kun said, he was human once," the dark-haired man's voice was tired, and somewhat sad. The compassion – no pity, _please_ god no pity – was warm and soothing, emanating from the world-weary man in waves. "Perhaps that shift…exacerbated the problem."

"Exacerbated indeed," Recovery Girl agreed. Then she leveled a stern glare at Hitsugaya, who blinked in surprise and recoiled, the expression unnervingly similar to the terrifying kindness that Unohana had oozed. He paled sharply. And All Might had the nerve to _chuckle_. The blond man promptly received the dirtiest glare Hitsugaya could muster.

"You, young man – or being, I suppose – are hereby forbidden from shouting or speaking loudly in any form for the next three days," she lectured sternly, and Toushiro cowered under that old woman's glare. Why were healers always _horrifying_? It wasn't fair! "Whatever that breath attack of your Quirk is, it tore your throat to ribbons. You nearly drowned in your own blood from the internal injuries. You also may not manifest the scales, wings, and tail of your Quirk for those three days, and you absolutely _must_ apply the medicated lotion I'm going to prescribe you twice a day at a minimum. This dry skin of yours is horrific and I'm not having it get infected on my watch. After the time period is up, you may practice this Quirk if you wish, but if you are going to do _anything_ , you must get Aizawa's approval and a teacher's supervision. Since you _are_ enrolled in the hero program, you may attempt to use your Quirk for class exercises, but _only with a teacher's explicit supervision_. And the level of power you pulled out of this Quirk during the exam will _not_ be matched ever again – the damage you sustained is far too much for this to be useful. Am I understood?"

He could only nod meekly, and then stiffened as the bossy little lady slapped a bottle of medicated skin lotion, a roll of bandaging and a packet of pills into his wrapped hands.

"The pills will help lessen any lingering inflammation and pain in your throat as well as speed the healing process," she said matter-of-factly. "And rewrap your arms up to the shoulder every time you reapply – the skin is most affected along your forearms and shoulders. Remember, _no talking loudly_. Avoid speaking at all, if you can."

Hitsugaya nodded obediently, still silent and wide-eyed, unable to believe that this was happening so easily. He hadn't had any strange powers manifest themselves so uncontrollably since Hyourinmaru had called to him in his dreams, but nobody had known how to help him at the Shinou Academy. Here, it seemed the exact opposite was true – and the thought sent flutters of unwilling excitement surging through him. But if he couldn't figure out how to get home, and he had to look for an evil mastermind anyway, he might as well figure out a way to fight on even footing with the humans – even if this new Quirk did cause health problems, he was sure he could work through then. And using shinigami arts could only go so far before others outside of the small circle of U.A. teachers got too suspicious. And so he left the infirmary with Hyorinmaru on his back, dressed in his school uniform – the gym uniform was ruined – and with the prescriptions in his hand.

Aizawa watched him go, then turned to Nedzu, All Might and Endeavor with a serious expression.

"We can't let him get anywhere near All-For-One," Aizawa said without preamble, and was gratified to see the others nodding, All Might especially. "He wasn't making an empty threat when he declared his intent to kill, and while his speed may be effective in a battle against someone with a single Quirk, All-for-One is too flexible in his combat style. He'd be killed or worse."

All Might sighed, folding his bony hands together and fixing his gaze on the tiles below him.

"That definitely was not an empty threat – everyone here has felt killing intent enough to recognize that, even as mild as his was," the Symbol of Peace sighed heavily. "However, it worries me that he considered a man's execution to be the fulfillment of some kind of 'order' which we are not privy to. I would say he's being used like a tool, and for one so young to be used like that…it seems like something All-for-One would exploit if Young Hitsugaya ever fell into the League's hands."

Aizawa laughed hollowly.

"Little wonder his PTSD is so severe," the man said bitterly.

* * *

It was the expectant pressure of watching eyes that first alerted him to the group of students scattered at random around the dorms where he lived, that and the agitated bubbling of human reiatsu that made his skin prickle. Then he actually saw them – all nine of them – and paused, somewhat surprised by their appearance. He'd been under the impression that his loss of control over the Quirk he was developing would have scared all of his classmates away from him, especially since he had made no real move to befriend any of them. He supposed cynically that this could still be the case – he'd been beaten up by bullies before enough times at the Academy to know that nine-on-one were unfortunate odds, and that people often tried to silence what they did not understand. But he squared his shoulders nonetheless, smoothing his expression into unruffled ice. He could handle a bunch of fifteen-year-olds alone, and Hyourinmaru was with him. He had to repeat the entire phrase to himself to make his feet move, however.

The slow shuffle back towards the dorm building where he had lived for the past two and half months carved dread into his every step, and he braced himself for the whispers and murmurs, or for the angry snarls of fear. But the nine of his classmates waiting for him silently, almost expectantly, still lounging aimlessly around on the grass or on benches. Nobody spoke until he was a few meters away, and then once he crossed some invisible threshold, eight pairs of eyes turned on Midoriya, who rose to his feet nervously, kicking at the ground with his red sneakers as he took a few steps forward. But just as Toushiro thought the other boy was going to get in his personal space, the green-haired teenager stopped, leaving a decently-sized gap between them. His wide, innocent eyes glinted with a kind of fiery compassion so unlike pity that Hitsugaya wasn't quite sure what it was.

"Hitsugaya-kun, I'm not going to ask you if you're alright, because I think it's pretty obvious you're dealing with some stuff," Midoriya said then, and Toushiro realized the pale teenager wasn't stuttering nervously, a hint of surprise coursing through him. "But the teachers – All Might, Aizawa-sensei, Nedzu-sensei, Midnight-sensei, _someone_ – are they helping you to deal with it, or is there something we can do?"

Midoriya waved a frenetic hand back at the eight people behind him, and though Bakugo was scowling and muttering nasty words under his breath, Hitsugaya easily noticed the way the explosive teenager's red eyes scrolled carefully over him as if looking for injuries and lingered angrily on the bandaging wrapped gently around his arms and hands. He opened his mouth to speak, ready to politely thank the group then send them on their way without saying a single word concerning his issues, then felt his breath catch in his chest. Hyourinmaru hummed comfortingly under his breastbone. The dragon had been strangely quiet since the Quirk incident.

The pause was just a second too long. Midoriya took another step forward, that sunshine smile returning to grace his freckled cheeks in full force. However, while the broccoli-haired teenager was closer, he still was a few feet away, keeping just enough distance that Toushiro knew he'd be able to dodge a blow if necessary. A sudden chill ran down his spine as he saw Midoriya's eyes flick between them – was the other boy keeping his distance on purpose?

"Alright, you don't want to say anything," Midoriya chattered, obviously a bit nervous but pushing through it despite everything. Toushiro could feel his wariness ebbing slowly, the excited babbling reminding him far too much of a happy Hinamori when they'd still been nothing more than Rukongai siblings. Midoriya didn't appear to notice his marginal relaxation, still talking away. "I sort of expected that. But you have to be at least a little lonely here sometimes, and I know the cafeteria food can't be _that_ good all the time, even if Lunch Rush _is_ making most of it, so if you're not busy tonight or on bed rest or anything, I thought maybe you'd like to come over to my house for dinner? Everyone here was talking about it and we thought that we could all take turns inviting you over for dinner or weekend lunches or something so you wouldn't be by yourself here all the time, and I've already called my mom and told her I was going to invite you and she's okay with setting out an extra place-"

"Deku, you're talking too fucking much," Bakugo growled suddenly, a vein pulsing in his temple as he stomped forward. Suddenly the other students looked mildly alarmed and the redhead, Kirishima, hurried up as well as if preparing to head off an explosion. But the blonde teenager stopped a pace away, glaring moodily.

"Listen here Snowy," the grumpy teenager snarled. Hitsugaya couldn't stop the instinctive twitch at the nickname, biting back a snarl of his own, but Bakugo steamrolled over any objection he was going to make. "Deku's too fucking weak to tell you straight out, but you _are_ going to eat dinner with the loser and his mom, and anyone else who's fucking soft enough to coddle you, and if you've got a problem with that, I'll kick your weak ass and drag you over there myself. Understand?"

For a moment, Hitsugaya was stunned. His subordinates and comrades rarely ever had the guts to talk to him that way back in Seireitei, especially given his short temper. And then he remembered the brash smirk of the orange-haired moron who had rather obnoxiously bulldozed his way into being the Captain of the Fifth Division following Hirako's retirement. A slight scowl tinged by exasperated fondness flickered onto his face, and he shook his head with some resignation. Kurosaki would definitely have given him a similar speech, except that idiot would have probably punched him in the face first to get his point across. And maybe wouldn't have dropped expletives quite so often. On a good day.

So Hitsugaya just rolled his eyes, tipping his head back a bit.

"Tch. My name is Hitsugaya," he replied, voice still too faint and too raw for him to shout, only a bit of bite behind his words. Honestly, he could admit to being mildly amused by Bakugo's amateur attempt at pretending to be a cocky jackass in order to hide his concern. That was textbook social-awkwardness covered up by being 'tough.' Bakugo turned away with a snort of derision.

"Like I care about some extra's name," he scowled, "Go with the fucking loser already."

Toushiro couldn't stop the corner of his mouth from quirking up as he watched the blonde teenager stalk away. That had been almost as bad as watching Abarai try to talk to the Arisawa girl, who was now a Substitute Shinigami alongside the Kurosaki twins. Then he sighed and turned back to Midoriya, who was watching Bakugo go with a knowing look in his forest-colored eyes.

"I will have to ask Aizawa-sensei or Nedzu-sensei whether I can leave the school campus first," Hitsugaya said without preamble, his voice still restricted to just above a whisper. That caught Izuku's attention and the teenager frowned, forehead creasing in thought. He wasn't the only one taken aback by that revelation.

"Why do you need permission to leave school?" Todoroki interjected, his eyes narrowing. "That seems unnecessarily restrictive."

Hitsugaya raised an eyebrow at the heterochromatic teenager, then turned to Midoriya and Iida, contemplating the trio with narrowed eyes. Then he sighed and shook his head, annoyed.

"Which one of you two mentioned Hosu to Aizawa-sensei? Obviously it wasn't Todoroki-san since he's asking stupid questions." he asked flatly. "Or was it both of you? Midoriya has the analytical ability to come up with a correct conclusion, but Iida has the sense of responsibility to do something like that, so I'm not sure which of you was at fault."

There was a beat of silence, and then as Iida affected a confused expression Midoriya took a very noticeable step away, a slight crackle of green lightning flickering around his wrists. Hitsugaya rolled his eyes and deliberately stretched, popping his back in the process. Yaoyorozu, Uraraka, Todoroki, Tokoyami, Kirishima, and a startled Bakugo watched in surprise. Obviously _they_ hadn't been aware of the Hosu incident.

"God, Midoriya, quit that," Hitsugaya snapped with a wince, glaring at the Quirk flickers along Izuku's arms and legs. Oops, a bit too loud. "You did something perfectly logical, and I'm not some self-centered prick who's going to make your life hard because you thought you were doing the right thing. I mentioned it because I figured they would have informed you when the situation was resolved."

Midoriya's expression cleared and a hint of relief passed across his freckled cheeks, quickly followed by a flash of hurt and confusion.

"They've talked you already?" he asked, his stance shifting. Hitsugaya nodded in response, folding his arms across his chest.

"If 'talking' means put me in handcuffs and hosted an interrogation, then yes," the shinigami said dryly, "I came clean, if you were wondering. The policeman responsible for my case was confident that juvenile court would let me off with a few months of 'house arrest' and required therapy considering my mind is _apparently_ so fucked-up I'm not fully responsible for my own actions. So I need to ask permission to leave. My case hasn't gone through court yet, and leaving at this point might count as running away."

It was only a half-lie, but the kids didn't need to know his cover story in full. In fact, it might make look more believable if he kept it a secret. He might as well blame everything on his mental instability. The nine of his classmates all stared, eyes wide, and, somewhat surprisingly, Uraraka was the first to get her tongue back in working order.

"You were arrested?" she yelped in surprise, her hair floating uncontrollably around her head when she grabbed at the strands in her shock. "Hitsugaya-kun, what did you _do_?"

Toushiro leveled her with an incredulous stare, then turned a searching gaze on Midoriya. Why on earth would the kid not have confided in his friends about what he'd seen or deduced? Hitsugaya was well aware that the green-haired teenager couldn't possibly have seen him actually kill the Nomu-creature, but Midoriya was unusually adept at analyzing strategy for a young human. If he'd suspected, why hadn't he said anything about his theories?

"…you didn't tell them?" he asked, confused, trying to read Midoriya's actions. But the green-headed teenager just shrugged sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck uncomfortably.

"…it didn't feel right," the teenager admitted after a long pause. "You were so passionate about protecting other people, and you jumped in without hesitation when Todoroki-kun and Kacchan were being attacked by that monster at the Sports Festival…"

The green-haired kid took a deep breath, then looked up, meeting Hitsugaya's cold glance fearlessly. Toushiro blinked, wondering absently how it was possible for this nervous, stuttering boy with the brilliant smile to turn so suddenly into a pillar of strength, into a soul with actual convictions beyond blindly following a man they admired…alright, the comparisons to Hinamori weren't fair. But this sunshiny kid also having the strength his sister had always lacked was jarring. Not unpleasantly jarring, but there was a kind of sadness there. Hinamori could have been just like this if he'd just seen the Aizen-dependency forming at the beginning.

"I guess I just wanted to give you a chance to be one of the good guys," Midoriya said finally, still holding Hitsugaya's gaze without backing down. "And if I'd told the rest of the class, the wariness would have been there every time you walked in. That wouldn't have been fair to you."

Toushiro felt a bitter smile twitch his lips at that, feeling acid melancholia and bittersweet amusement churning in the pit of his stomach. Midoriya's gaze wasn't judgmental, but there was a hint of distance from that sunny personality now, a hint of caution now that the other teen's suspicion that Hitsugaya was the perpetrator of the Nomu's murder had been confirmed. And yet this kid had still tried to keep his classmates from being prejudiced – and was still doing so by refusing to confirm anything about the Hosu incident.

"One of the good guys…" Hitsugaya sighed. His expression turned a bit sad. "You're still very naïve, to see the world so black and white. Tell me, would it have been right to let that creature continue living, even when it's every moment of existence was agony, when all it would have been capable of is languishing in a cell, unable to think on its own? There was no hope that such a tormented creature would have ever regained its humanity."

Midoriya's expression shifted to consternation just as his classmates appeared to realize what Hitsugaya's involvement in Hosu was. The green-haired kid bit his lower lip, thinking hard.

"…you're still taking away their chance at recovery," he said after a moment. "Even if that chance is slim, you're still removing that possibility."

"Recovery from torture and experimentation is not as easy as you'd think," Hitsugaya said stiffly, eyes narrowing. He could feel his nails curling into his wrapped palms, further cracking the dried-out skin. "Some things damage the soul beyond repair. And whatever that creature had become, there was no reversing that. Despite what you might believe, there _are_ things worse than death in this world, and I chose to put that poor thing out of its misery before some well-intentioned _moron_ came along and tried to force it to fix itself."

There was a pregnant pause, and then Hitsugaya saw Midoriya's slowly-widening eyes twitch down toward the white bracelet around his wrist above the bandaging. Suddenly Toushiro's stomach lurched, a strike of queasy upset flipping the organ upside-down. Bile burned his throat as he deliberately swallowed the nausea. Shit, maybe he'd given too much away when he'd referenced the PTSD…He dropped his gaze from Midoriya's glistening forest-stare, his chest clenching.

"…I…I think I understand, Hitsugaya-kun," Midoriya's voice was a little shaken, but steady enough that Hitsugaya could tell the other boy was probably still looking at him. Then Uraraka spoke up, the clear concern in her voice so painfully full of confused pity that Toushiro almost wanted to throw something at her.

"What do you understand, Deku-kun?" she asked anxiously, her sneakers tapping on the ground as she padded up behind Midoriya. There was a brief pause. And then Midoriya's voice changed.

"…It's nothing, Uraraka-san," he said after a long moment. Hitsugaya paused, baffled, and looked up again in confusion. This was the second time this kid's behavior hadn't met his expectations, and it was starting to make him nervous.

He was well aware of the mostly-correct conclusions that Midoriya would be able to draw from his snap a few moments ago, and while he was fine with Nedzu and the adult humans knowing that kind of half-truth about him considering how integral to his cover those quibbling details were, letting one of his classmates find out was an entirely different kettle of fish. They didn't need to know that fire set his heart to pounding, that the taste of blood in his mouth would trigger an onslaught of terror and guilt, that the very idea of human experimentation made him sick. He had been lucky with the pro-heroes. He wasn't shown pity, nor was he forced to talk about his problems any more than was necessary for Aizawa and Nedzu to help him come up with methods he could use to calm himself down.

But these teenagers were just that – _teenagers_. None of them would have a decent grasp on psychology, and their idea of helping him (even if he wasn't exactly keen on being helped) would probably be to prod at him, to be as unbearably overbearing as Matsumoto in in her mother-hen mode until he went crazy. They'd talk behind his back, whispers of pity following him that would slowly turn into derision and spite as he rejected their advances. It had happened before, at the Shinou Academy. What made these kids any different?

And yet Midoriya had figured it out – had pieced together one of the horrifying pictures in his past – and yet he wasn't saying anything. He wasn't letting his classmates know about the horrors in Hitsugaya's past, regardless of how the other kids may be able to 'help' improve the situation.

"…I know you caught my slip," Hitsugaya said after a moment, "so why…?"

Midoriya shrugged. This time, he was the one to avert his eyes.

"Uh…uh, you don't really seem like the type of guy to…to appreciate pity," the green-haired kid stammered, that little nervous tic of his apparently returning the moment he started guessing and acting on intuition over his own logic. "And I get the impression that you'd prefer to keep to yourself, so…you'll tell us if you want to."

Hitsugaya blinked. Well then. That was a pleasant surprise. The tension caught in his chest relaxed a bit. He let out a breath of air, ignoring how the puff of his breath clouded in the warmer atmosphere.

"Thank you, Midoriya-san."

The short, quiet expression of gratitude resulted in a blinding smile, the sunshiny kindness of Midoriya's entire persona catching Toushiro entirely off guard, and before he knew quite what was happening the green-haired teenager had caught his gauze-wrapped wrist – gently, like the boy was afraid he'd further injure Hitsugaya – and turned back to Yaoyorozu, Iida, and the others with that same smile.

"Alright, we're off! I'll text to let you all know what Aizawa-sensei says, and if we're in the clear, Tokoyami-kun said he would take this weekend, right?"

The birdlike teenager nodded, his yellow beak twisting into a level-headed smile, and Iida waved his hands around for a moment before extending his palms toward his friend.

"I will be responsible for coming up with a schedule, Midoriya-kun! Please be careful on your way home!"

Hitsugaya stiffened, eyes widening in incredulous disbelief. What on earth…?

"Oi, you lot, I'm not a charity case- Hey, Midoriya!"

The green-haired boy had taken off back towards the main school building, his calloused fingers still wrapped gently but firmly around Hitsugaya's wrist, and Toushiro stumbled once as he was dragged along, spluttering with incoherent shock and a little bit of embarrassment. Then Asui and Yaoyorozu had the _gall_ to wave at him as Midoriya hauled him off, both smiling cheerfully, and a cold stone sunk into the pit of Toushiro's stomach. Hyourinmaru began to chuckle at the back of his mind.

If the insanity kept up, this was going to be as bad as the time he'd been in charge of the Karakura advance guard. And putting Abarai, Matsumoto, and two morons from the Eleventh _together_ was one of the worst ideas that had ever existed. But at the very least that trip hadn't been boring. It hadn't exactly been fun, as he'd been babysitting shinigami who were twice his age eighty percent of the time, but it had its moments.

A slight smile touched the edges of his mouth. Maybe being stuck here wouldn't be so bad either.

* * *

**So, what did you think? Best constructive criticism or funniest omake idea will be offered the chance for a spoiler, as per the norm. :)**


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